


Vicarious

by JoshuaWoode



Category: Family Changing Room
Genre: Cuckolding, F/F, F/M, Incest, M/M, Medical Examination, Pedophilia, Swimming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoshuaWoode/pseuds/JoshuaWoode
Summary: Some people live life through the experiences of others.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 170





	1. Vicarious - Chapter One

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter One

It was subtle. I wasn't sure what I was seeing at first. The more I watched, the more certain I became.

My daughter's swimming instructor was touching her in ways that wouldn't be explained as just coaching.

Grace was about to turn 11 and she'd stepped up to a more competitive team. Her talent and dedication merited the promotion. She'd really embraced the sport in the previous year. Gymnastics and dance took a back seat as she began to place in meets. Her first actual win cemented her enthusiasm and focus. She'd jumped at the chance to train with a more advanced group.

The woman who coached the team was impressive, herself a regional champion who had competed for a spot on the Olympic team some years before. She was charming and energetic with the kids, but also demanding in a positive way. The first thing one noticed about her was a radiant smile that seemed to inspire both warmth and confidence.

When Gale had evaluated Grace, she'd said, "Your daughter has potential. It's hard to be sure at such a young age, but I see the shape of her arms and the fire in her eyes. I'd be happy to have her. That said, she's learned some bad habits that will take some work. Are you prepared to support her at this level? It's a serious time commitment."

My wife's obsession with her work allowed me to be a full-time Dad. Grace was insistent, so we signed up. Practice six times a week with additional individual coaching. Grace didn't complain, even about the early mornings. I'd usually stay and watch, a naive and unabashedly proud father amongst the gaggle of more experienced swim-moms.

Gale and Grace seemed to bond from the first. I'd often see Gale on one knee, her hands on Grace's shoulders speaking earnestly with my daughter. Grace's eyes would be fixed on her coach's face, steady and focused. She'd nod as she soaked in the instructions.

Over the past few weeks these interactions had shifted. It happened so slowly that I hadn't really recognized the change. Gale's hands were no longer on my girl's shoulders. They were on her hips as they spoke at pool side. In the water, Gale's hands supported Grace as she practiced her strokes. Where previously the coach held her from the top at the center of her back, the adult hand now rested much lower, over the swell of Grace's bottom. Gale's other hand was under the water, and so it was impossible to know where it might be.

These individual observations didn't trigger any concerns at the time. Gale was a respected professional. And a woman. Grace adored her. I thought she was an excellent role model. It wasn't until after practice one day that an odd thought entered my head. I saw Grace tucked under Gale's arm as they walked from the pool. But they didn't go to the ladies' locker room. Gale tool Grace by herself into one of the separate Family Changing Rooms. Grace didn't appear at all surprised by this, so I can only assume that it wasn't the first time.

Grace emerged from the changing room with reddened cheeks and glowing smile. On the way home, I felt compelled to probe a little.

"You seem to get along well with Gale," I said.

"Ya. She's awesome." Of late Grace had become more terse in her dialog with me. I dreaded the onset of her teenage years, already missing the bubbly, chatty eight-year-old that she'd been just yesterday. I'd blinked and two years had gone by.

"She... touches you... a lot."

"Ya. It's really helping me. I was kicking all wrong. I'm like two seconds faster in the fifty now."

I found myself struggling for words. Grace's utter lack of concern reassured me, but blood still surged to my cheeks.

"I saw... you went into the other room with her. Not the lockers."

Grace tried to shrug nonchalantly, but I sensed some tension there. "She talks to me there. You can't hear anything in the lockers. And they're gross anyway. It's better."

"What does she talk about, pumpkin?"

A slight roll of the eyes. "Swimming, Daddy. My swimming. And sometimes she talks about when she was learning. That's so cool."

I nodded a little. "If there's ever anything that you need to tell me, you know..."

"Dad. Don't even. Don't be weird." As she spoke her face was flushed, her eyes on the floor.

**************************

Gale is an attractive woman. I was missing my wife. So, the dream wasn't too surprising. Gale was peeling down the top of her one-piece swimsuit, seemingly unconcerned with my presence. "She's making great progress, Scott. I'm glad to have her." Her breasts are small and firm but well-formed, the small nipples stiff from the shiny evaporating drips. "Isn't that right, Grace?"

That's odd, I thought. Why am I in the changing room with Gale and my daughter? Grace had entered the inevitable shy phase at home, no longer happily oblivious about her state of undress as she scampered. I missed those days too. Yet here was Grace in my dream. And she also reached for her shoulder straps, her eyes calmly resting on Gale's exposed chest.

I opened my eyes in my empty bed. The wife was off to work early again. My morning erection was disturbingly intense.

**************************

I took the opportunity to speak with Gale after the next day's practice. Grace had run off to the vending machines.

"I noticed... yesterday... and today... you and Grace. You used the... changing room."

"Yes?" she said. Her eyes bore into me. I felt like I was being measured somehow.

"Is that... a common thing?"

"Yes," she said. "When a girl needs extra help."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say.

Gale broke the silence, touching on the issue that I hadn't known how to address. "Has Grace said she's uncomfortable with that?"

"No. Quite the contrary."

"Well then."

"I just... wanted to ask."

Gale smiled softly. I couldn't help but feel that I was being silly. "She's a lovely child, Scott. I think she misses her mother. I don't expect there's much that you can do about that."

I hated that she was right. Perhaps she saw me wince. She went on.

"This is a rigorous program. Are you sure that you're ready for it?"

Interesting that she didn't ask if Grace was ready. She asked about me.

"Grace really wants this. And she likes you a lot. She... trusts you."

"You should trust me too, Scott. If you want your daughter to achieve her goals."

"I do."

"Well then," she said. She rested her hand on my shoulder. The smile. After a moment I felt my own smile creep onto my face despite my lingering tummy rumbles.

Grace bounded back to us. As hard as she worked, practice always energized her. We chatted about the upcoming meet on the way home.

**************************

I sensed that Gale was watching me more closely at practice. Yet her interactions with Grace didn't change. If anything, they became more direct. More... intimate. Her hands moved in subtle ways when she touched my little girl. Grace seemed enraptured at the attention. I observed this with a strange sense of resignation. This was what my daughter wanted. There couldn't be anything wrong with her developing a relationship with her coach.

To my dismay the dreams persisted, each more explicit. Gale's nonchalance as she stripped off her suit. Grace watching, the top of her suit bunched around her waist. Thankfully my visions never took that image further. Still I woke with the front of my boxers soaked, my first nocturnal emission since high school.

The next day Grace developed a cramp. It was apparently painful, the muscles in her left leg standing out like slender ropes under her smooth skin. She lay on the verge of the pool and trembled. My heart broke as her tears ran. Gale beckoned me over. I knelt by my daughter's side.

"She needs some help, Scott. Can you handle it?"

"Errr. I'm not sure..."

"You've never rubbed out a cramp?"

"N-no. She's never had one, that I know of."

"It happens. Maybe she's dehydrated. Need to make sure she drinks enough water."

I nodded mutely, feeling helpless. Gale regarded me, seemingly disappointed. I was disappointed in myself.

The other girls were looking on anxiously. Gale blew her whistle. Too close to me, too loud. "Everybody else, laps please. Freestyle."

"Breathe, Grace." said Gale. The coach touched my daughter's hair tenderly. "It'll be okay. I know it's scary."

Gale started at Grace's lower calf and worked her hands briskly up the slender leg, kneading the muscles between her palms. Grace squealed in pain. I held her small hand... so small still. She squeezed. Her eyes were on Gale, on her face, then on her hands as they moved. As Gale progressed to Grace's upper thigh, my daughter's legs parted. It occurred to me later that Gale hadn't prompted this in any explicit way. It just happened, as though my daughter knew how to respond to such a touch.

Gale didn't pause. Her ministrations reached the nexus of Grace's legs, the edge of her hand against the taut fabric of her suit as it sawed back and forth, coaxing the muscles to slowly unwind. The motion tugged and stretched the cloth, a hint of pale skin at the seam, the cleft emerging in relief. Grace twisted her hips, a shudder from the cramp. Perhaps. Or perhaps... Gale raised her eyes, regarded me intently. My gaze was on her hands. I swallowed. From the corner of my eye, I thought the coach's face revealed a momentary smirk.

Grace was slowly calming. Gale rested her palm on my child's lower tummy, just above where it would have been obscene. Grace was panting as the tremors slowly faded. "There we go. Now rest for a few minutes and I'll wrap up with the others. Then a very hot shower."

"W-with you?" said Grace, her eyes seeking Gale's.

Gale regarded me as she answered. "Would that make you feel better, sweetheart?"

Grace nodded. Gale smiled down at her. "Then that's what we'll do. Get her some water, Scott." When I hesitated Gale added, "Please."

I stood and was painfully astonished at my awkward stiffness. My motions forced it down the leg of my shorts. Gale's eyebrows lifted, her face amused. I felt my color rise. Thankfully Grace was oblivious.

I got the water. Grace drank. I held my daughter's hand until Gale returned and led her into the Family Changing Room.

**************************

Some days later. I was still processing a maelstrom of feelings, tormented by the incessant dreams. They now invaded my waking hours, playing against the backs of my eyelids whenever I blinked.

Grace emerged from the pool, dripping. Gale met her with a large towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. Knelt beside her and was speaking close to her ear. Grace nodded earnestly. Gale's back to me. The towel hid the view from all others. I saw her lean in and kiss my daughter's cheek. Grace glowed. Gale's hand slipped up the shining wetness of Grace's leg. It didn't stop until the heel of her palm was pressed firmly at the rise of my ten-year-old's pubis. The hand moved as I stared. Grace's knees trembled, her eyelids fluttering. Gale smiled at me with a knowing calm as she led Grace past me to the Family Changing Room. I said nothing. I did nothing. I felt everything.

**************************

The days were a blur. It was another day, another practice.

"We have an understanding, I think." Gale, sitting herself beside me as the team swam laps, friendly and confident as though we were old and trusting friends.

"We do?"

"You'll never hurt her. I sense that. I can recognize the dangerous ones. You won't even touch her inappropriately, not ever."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Of course she knew that I was lying. She went on as though I hadn't said anything.

"She feels safe with me. She needs an adult woman in her life. You'll let me fill that role."

I swallowed hard. Stared at the ripples in the pool where somewhere my daughter was swimming.

"I'll help you in other ways. They'll be safe for her, I promise. I'll reassure her. You will too. It will all be part of her training. For you, no fear or guilt. All very tidy. Everyone gets what they want." She patted my thigh. "Oh, and. When we travel to away meets, Grace will room with me. Are we understood?"

The smile. I said nothing. I felt everything.

**************************

I saw Grace hobble a little on her way from the pool. Gale approached me, the image of the consummate professional.

"She's having some trouble with her hips. It's common at this age when we teach the breast stroke. The kicking motion is very different and uses a whole new set of muscles. Stresses the joints also. I'm going to refer you to a physical therapist. He's truly excellent. Works with many of my girls. You should take her twice a week for the next few months."

I called the office number Gale gave me. A receptionist answered. She said, "Oh yes. Mr. Richards. We have your referral. Brad would like to speak with you directly." There was a rustle, then music. Then a man's voice.

"This is Brad."

"This is Scott Richards. I think Gale..."

"Yes. Gale spoke to me about Grace. And about you." The tone in his voice was difficult to decipher. "How's Tuesday at 4? I can evaluate her, and we'll set up a treatment program."

"I can make that work," I said.

"Good. I look forward to meeting you both. Since this is a hip issue, please have her wear loose shorts and no underpants."

This was said in a completely perfunctory manner, as if I should have expected it. I was silent.

"Everything okay, Scott?"

I cleared my throat. "Y-yes."

"Good. See you Tuesday."

**************************

When I told Grace about the therapist and his instructions, she simply nodded. "Ya. Gale told me."

"You're okay with it?"

"She said it will help. She said he's the best."

Tuesday came. We went. Her shorts were loose. I was ashamed of my thoughts.

Brad was large and friendly. A male version of Gale. A warm smile and a firm hand.

"You'll stay with her," he said. "It's our policy that a parent is in the room at all times. You know how things are these days."

I nodded. He bent to address Grace eye-to-eye. "Hello, Grace. I hear you're in a lot of pain."

"Not a lot," said my brave daughter. "It's just slowing me down. It's annoying."

"That's the spirit of an athlete. We'll have you back in form lickity-split."

Grace smiled as Brad led us into the therapy room. He patted the table. Grace hopped up. I sat in a chair facing.

"Lie down, Grace." She did. He rested his hand on her boyish chest and spoke quietly. "This is about your hips, so I'm going to touch your hips. And the surrounding area. You understand that, right? That's the reason I asked you not to wear underpants."

Grace chewed her lip but nodded. "Gale told me."

"And you understand too, Dad?" He watched me. I nodded. "I'm sorry to ask, but I'd appreciate a verbal acknowledgement. It's like what the flight attendants ask when you sit in the exit row. So everything's clear."

"Yes," I said. "Yes. I understand that you're going to touch her. Her... hips."

The smile. "Thanks. Awkward, I know. But I'm glad that we have an understanding."

The words struck me as oddly familiar.

Now to Grace. "I'm going to hold your right hip and test your range of motion. Ready?"

She nodded and tensed only slightly as his left hand moved up under the leg of her shorts, her eyes locked on the ceiling.

"Tell me when it hurts, okay?" I saw the outline of his large hand under the fabric. He held her shin with his right hand and moved it slowly, apparently feeling the flex of her hip and watching her face. As he pushed her knee to the side she winced slightly.

"Right. There it is. Just a little more now."

He splayed her leg wider. The shorts separated. I saw his hand there. I saw... her. Ivory smoothness. Delicate. Elegant. Slightly parted as the man manipulated her, the inner petals peeking. And his thumb. There. Resting. Not moving. At the top of the cleft, just there. As though it belonged. She moved beneath it when he pulled and twisted her leg.

Grace's color rose in her cheeks, first pink, then brighter red. She saw where I was looking.

"Are you okay, princess?" I offered, yanking my eyes away.

A brave nod. "It's just... kinda weird."

"I know, sweetie. It's... part of the training." She swallowed. Words were echoing all around.

Brad moved to the other side of the table and repeated the procedure, swapping hands. Grace squirmed. "Almost done. Just relax. There we are." This perspective afforded me less views of Grace, but a frontal view of Brad. He was visibly erect in his pants.

Of course I should have said something. Done something. Of course. What sort of father am I?

It seemed that I was the sort of father who, at that time and in that situation, was also quite extremely erect in my pants. My shame paralyzed me. Brad cast a knowing look my way.

He guided Grace's leg back to the table. "You can sit up, Grace. You did great." He perched in the large chair at his desk and spoke to us both. "The good news is that I don't think there's any serious issue. You might want to have a x-ray just in case, but I expect we just have to build up the muscles supporting the joint. Then you'll have more control and avoid the motions that caused the inflammation. Meanwhile, just take two Advil every day before practice. I can work with Grace twice a week on the exercises."

Grace looked relieved. I suppose I did too. "How's Tuesdays and Fridays at four?" asked Brad.

"I can make that work," I said. Grace nodded, her legs closed tight as they draped over the edge of the table. "Should she... dress... the same... for those sessions as well?" I hoped the lump in my throat wasn't visible.

"Yes. I'll want to assess her progress. It makes things easier." Grace's teeth at her lip. "See you Friday?" he said.

I looked at my daughter. She nodded slightly. "See you Friday," I said.

**************************

I refused myself conscious admission of what would seem obvious to some. I was aroused at the thought, the imagining, and now the actual fact of my daughter's sexual exploitation at the hands of two adults. I didn't allow myself to think this, or to act on it. I didn't masturbate to these feelings, these dreams, these images. In retrospect, my failure to relieve the evident pressure likely only made things worse. The unconscious mind is a vicious, heartless thing.

Friday's therapy session was just an orientation to the exercises Grace would learn to develop her muscles. The exam was brief and uneventful. I'd become sanguine to Gale's actions as Grace continued to flourish under her coach's attention. I returned her smile as she took my daughter to the changing room. This made it easier to avoid thinking about things.

The next Tuesday, Grace had to stay after school to work on a project. I picked her up there at 3:45. She was wearing blue jeans. They were tight. When did her bottom get to be so round? Then I realized... _crap._ We didn't have time to go home for her to change her clothes. In the car, I said, "I'm sure we can work it out when we get there, sweetpea." Grace looked a little anxious.

What sort of father am I? I remember getting ready to leave the house to pick her up. I remember seeing her shorts on her bed. I remember thinking, I can bring them, and she can change in the bathroom at the doctor's office. All good. Yet when I arrived at school, the shorts were still on her bed. Hmmm, I thought. I'm getting forgetful.

Brad ushered us into the therapy room. I explained what had happened. Brad looked sympathetic. "Well, we can reschedule. It won't work in those pants."

Grace glared at me with annoyance. After a moment, her small voice. "I can take them off," she said.

Brad shrugged and looked at me. "I'm sorry, Grace. I..."

"It's okay, Dad. It's not different from a bathing suit."

Brad said. "Okay then. You can exercise that way, Grace."

The session proceeded with Grace in her underpants. Small as they were, they were a little loose. The leg machine spread her. Glimpses. She became less conscious of her exposed state as she broke a sweat.

"That's great, Grace. You'll be sore tomorrow, but that means the muscles are building and helping your hips. Hop up on the table."

My daughter grinned at the encouragement and sat. Brad gently pushed at her chest, laying her flat. She brought her legs up dutifully. Then, with a glance at me, he stripped off her panties, all the way down her legs and off her childish feet.

Grace's eyes were wide, as were mine. Brad was unperturbed, but he responded to my daughter's surprise.

"I should have said. I need to feel how things are moving inside. That's why no underpants, remember? If you come in street clothes, we'll have to have all the bottoms off for this part."

Grace stared at the ceiling and shut her eyes. I stared at Grace. Brad touched her deftly, manipulated her firmly, displayed her thoroughly. His thumb, there. Resting. Pressing. Grace wiggles. Brad smiles. The other side. I feel my sweat. He turns her over, lifts her hips, her bottom in the air. Extends one leg to the side, large hand cupping her small rump. Finally, he gave it a gentle swat. "All good, Grace. You can get dressed. If you would, please give me a minute with your Dad. Nothing bad about you, I promise."

Grace glowed red as a fire engine and made no eye contact as she dressed and scurried out of the room. Brad sat in his chair and regarded me silently for a long moment.

Finally, "Gale's right about you. You're safe. You're safe for your daughter, and for us."

"Safe?"

"You're not a child molester. You won't touch her, will you?"

"Of course not. How could you suggest..."

"Yet you just let me molest her."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's all p-part..."

"Yes. Part of the training. It actually is. I am really helping her. That's completely legitimate. But that's not all that's going on here, is it?"

I shook my head reflexively. "No. I mean yes. I mean..." Inside I was reeling, repressed thoughts boiling over.

"It's okay, Scott. We've had your sort before. It's not too late to back out. Gale will be very disappointed if you do. I will be too, actually. I haven't had that much time with Grace, but she has one incredibly hot little babycunt. I hope to get to enjoy it more thoroughly. Let yourself imagine where my hands will go. Where my _fingers_ will go."

"Please don't talk about my daughter that way." This emerged from my constricted throat as a plea, not a threat.

"You only think that you don't like it. Your dick says otherwise. Multiple witnesses can attest to how hard you get when you see someone fondling your princess."

"I think I should go."

"Okay. But first, think about what Grace wants. She has a dream. That she let me do what I did today without a whimper is a testament to her commitment. She can be a great swimmer. I trust Gale on that."

"There are other coaches... other..." I was grasping at anything that seemed like a rational alternative to the horror I'd allowed to invaded my family.

"What do you see when Grace looks at Gale, Scott? Be honest."

I looked down. It was obvious. I just hadn't wanted to see it.

Brad said it for me. "Your daughter is head over heels in love, as only a ten-year-old can be. Gale is like that. She knows girls. When she wants one she rarely misses. But she's also kind. Grace is in good hands. So to speak."

He actually chuckled. I almost punched him. Almost.

He saw me tense. He saw me slump. "You see," he said. "You're not dangerous. Just accept what's happening. Accept, and watch. Watch, and enjoy. You're safe, you see. You're not doing anything wrong, not that anyone would know. Even Grace. For her, it's all part of the training."

I could only blink at him. He slapped my knee and went on. "I have note from Gale. She asked me to give it to you when we had this conversation. Which she knew that we would have. It's scary sometimes, how well she understands people."

The note was written in longhand script, practiced, almost elegant and therefore all the more obscene:

__

_I wish you could see her, Scott. She's so incredibly perfect, so radiant, so beautiful when we kiss. And when she cums, she's the image of bliss, of childish joy. She's not ashamed anymore, not shy to spread her legs for me. Her fingers in my hair, pulling me close against her pristine smoothness._

_It's not her fault. She was totally innocent when she came to me. That's so hard for me to resist, you see. It's taken me weeks to open her mind and wake up her young body, little steps at a time. So many tiny steps, each a revelation._

_You want to see it. I know you do._

Brad took the note back from me. "She's pretty compelling, I must say. We've known each other for years. Discovered early on that we had some shared interests and complementary skills."

I gulped for air. "I w-want out," I finally managed.

Brad laughed softly. "I know that some part of you does. It's totally understandable. Nobody really wants to accept their own depravity. Just let me ask you one question, Scott."

"Okay."

"What were you thinking would happen, when you brought her here in street clothes?"

"I thought... I guess... that we'd... you know... figure something out..."

"Yes. Well. We did, didn't we? We figured something out."

"I'll report you." I blurted this, desperate.

Brad seemed unconcerned. "Unlikely. Consider the consequences for your daughter. And for you. Gale's almost certainly told Grace her story by now. She had her own experiences, did Gale. She got angry with her Daddy. Not because he visited her at night, but because he stopped when she aged out of his particular tastes. So she told on him. It did not go well. It never does, you see. The trauma from the telling is much worse. Your daughter will hate you forever for taking away her first true love."

"I won't see her hurt."

"Oh, neither will I. Nor will Gale. There's nothing so precious as a girl like Grace."

"She'll realize what's happening. She'll tell."

"None of the others have."

"Others?"

"Yes, Scott. Others. A few dozen, over the years. Some are active at home. Others have Dads like you. The watchers. The vicarious ones. Too afraid to touch, nothing so obvious as that. But happy to watch. Eager to watch. Needful of watching. Like you."

"I need to go." Go somewhere. Anywhere. Perhaps out of state. Perhaps out of my mind.

"See you Friday, Scott." I slammed the door as I left. An empty gesture, but it felt good.

**************************

"Why didn't you bring my shorts, Daddy?"

"I'm sorry, Grace. I forgot them."

"That was soooo embarrassing." She was turned to face the car window as we drove home, clutching her knees to her chest, refusing to look at me. I sensed the heat of her breath even as it fogged the glass.

"But... you did it. Sweetheart."

"I had to. I want to swim fast. More than anything."

"Why, sweetpea? Why is it so important to you?"

She buried her face in her thighs. I knew the answer.

**************************

The next two days of swim practice went by in a haze. Friday morning was an early start. Grace was up and ready without fail. I was bleary and sat listlessly on the bleachers. Practice concluded, the whistle a knife through my brain. Gale plunked herself down beside me, shameless.

"Brad tells me that you're confused. It's understandable. You look like hell. Not sleeping much, I imagine."

"Discovering that your daughter is being systematically groomed and molested takes its toll."

"She knows what she wants. That's an admirable thing in someone her age."

"You think she wants an adult female lover and a pedophile physical therapist?"

"I can only speak to the former. I know this isn't in your vernacular, but we are in love, she and I."

"She's ten."

"Eleven next week. Or did you forget? That's when love is the most real. The first one. The one that utterly crushes you, destroys you when you lose it. That's the most vital, intense, overwhelming love there is. It changes you forever."

"You're taking advantage of her. She doesn't know any better."

"Huh. Ask her how she feels about her mother, Scott. Maybe it's you who doesn't know any better. You have no concept of how big and deep and terrifying that empty place can be, the place that's supposed to be occupied by a girl's mother."

We sat silently. Grace padded up to us, towel over her shoulders. Gale took the towel and started to rub her down briskly. Grace seemed to expect this. "I want you to time me again. I know I'm faster," said my daughter. Gale's hands took liberties that the child, well inured, readily accepted. I couldn't look away. Gale shook her head slowly.

The other girls filed past us to the lockers with a few sideways glances. Whispers and giggles. Jealous of the favorite. Then we three were alone, the slapping of water on the side of the pool the only lingering evidence of motion.

Gale took Grace's head in her hands and gently kissed her forehead. Lingered there for an eternal moment, breathing the girl's hair. Grace glanced at Gale tentatively, then at me. Gale pressed her cheek to Grace's ear. "He knows, little one. I told you. We can't hide forever."

Grace blinked three times, her eyes wide. "No. He can't. It's... it's... just us..."

"He's your father, Grace. He loves you more than anything. He needs to know what's in your heart."

Grace buried her face in Gale's neck before turning one eye to me.

"Don't spoil it, Daddy. Please don't. I know it's... I'm not supposed to... but... I do..."

"I wouldn't have told him if I thought he'd spoil it, little one. Maybe he needs time to see, and to understand. You want him to know that it's real, don't you? That it's not just a silly crush?"

Grace nodded. Gale stood and took her hand. Then she took mine. We walked that way to the Family Changing Room.

I couldn't look. I couldn't look away. It was my dream. The door locked behind us, Gale stood Grace on the bench, equalizing their height. Their lips met softly and explored. Grace's eyes kept darting to where I was standing.

"Y-you want him to see?" said her young voice.

"So he knows it's real," said Gale.

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"It's weird."

"He loves you. Let him see how you feel. Kiss me. For real."

I was soon forgotten in the ensuing embrace. I closed my eyes, panic and need warring for control of my brain. When I opened them again Grace's bathing suit was a small dark puddle of cloth bunched around her feet. Gale's mouth consumed my daughter's lips, the adult's hand buried between the slender legs that hadn't been spread just a moment before.

I said nothing. I did nothing. I felt everything. Some spark of reason made me leave them there. Still the image I saw as I closed the door stayed with me, my little girl's legs wrapped around Gale's waist, her bottom clasped in strong hands.

**************************

"Are you mad at me, Daddy?"

In the car, after school, on the way to see Brad. Somehow the rest of the day had passed. I remembered none of it.

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"I didn't know how to tell you."

"Of course not. It's not your fault. She... she's..."

"It wasn't like that. She talked to me, Daddy. For long times. She told me about growing up. She didn't have a Mom, really. Like, she wasn't around. So she understands. I get so mad sometimes. She knew. She kissed me first. But I wanted her to."

"You're too young to know what you want, Grace."

She sniffled. "I never felt sure about anything before."

"She's a grown woman. There have been other girls, you know."

"Ya. She told me."

"She did?"

"Ya. She said they all leave her. It was sad."

"Perhaps they come to understand that she's taking advantage of them."

She was quiet as we pulled into the parking lot.

"When did you know, Daddy?"

"What do you mean?"

"When did you really know, about me and Gale?"

"I'm not sure. I... should have..."

"She told me about you too, Daddy."

"What did she tell you?"

"That someplace inside, you knew. And you didn't say anything. And you didn't do anything."

"But... Grace... I felt everything. I just don't want to see... you..."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Did you bring my shorts?"

 _Fuck. Me._ I looked down. She knew the answer.

**************************

"Here we are again," said Brad. I wanted to slap the grin off his face. I didn't.

We were alone in his office, Grace being finished for the day.

Annoyed with me as she was, some barriers had come down. She had endured the exercise session without complaint. Our eyes met at times. She seemed sanguine. When Brad patted the table, she slid off her panties before hopping up and laying down. Brad smiled at me. The nerve.

His explorations were more explicit this time, but he knew how to have limits. There was never anything that could be interpreted as overt masturbation of my daughter. Still, I could see her response on her face, hear the shortening of her breath. Brad's voice was low and encouraging as he worked her over with his firm hands.

"You brought her back."

"That seems pretty obvious."

"Without her shorts."

"I forgot them."

"Again."

"Yes. Again."

"You're now officially complicit."

I didn't say anything.

"I've entertained you in extraordinary ways, Scott. Three times now. I've seen the look on your face. These are experiences you couldn't ever hope to have, short of interfering with her yourself. Which is something you'd never do."

I forced myself to remain silent. Eventually he continued.

"Seems like the least you can do is thank me."

"Thank you?" I tried my best to sound incredulous.

"Yes. For the entertainment that you so deeply desire and appreciate."

"How am I supposed to thank you?"

Brad stood up. Stood close to my chair.

"Unzip my pants."

"No."

"Yes. Now. Fondling your little girl made me extremely horny. Having you watch added extra spice. Now you're going to take care of the hardon you created. If you're nice about it I'll even let you jerk off while you blow me. You need to jerk off, don't you? Because you got to see her drop her panties without even being asked. You got to see me with my hands all over her bare little pussy. You saw her wriggle her ass when my thumb was on her clit. Touching places your hands will never dare to go. Isn't that right, Scott?"

I don't really remember the next things that happened. I recall that I opened my eyes after I came, the mess everywhere. Brad's cock was still in my mouth.

"How rude," he said, "you finishing first." He pushed deep and I felt him spasm in my throat, my breath ragged and rattling wet in my nose.

"Now we have an understanding," he said. He handed me a piece of paper as I stumbled from the office. "See you Tuesday."

In the car, Grace gave me an odd look.

"Are you okay, Daddy? What did he say after?"

"He said... you're doing fine, Grace. He said you're making good progress."

"I think he likes me."

"What's not to like?"

"Ha ha. I mean, likes me likes me. He touches me like Gale does. Kinda."

"It's just part of the training, princess."

She shrugged and picked up the paper I'd been given in the office. I hadn't looked at it. She squinted at the words.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, pumpkin?"

"What's 'pelvic floor therapy?'"

I snatched the paper from her hand and threw it out the window. A pointless gesture. But it felt good.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	2. Vicarious - Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Two

Grace turned eleven. The party was impossibly loud, squeals and screams that only girls that age can summon. Mostly the swim team and a few school friends.

The range of physical development at that age is remarkable. Some seemed no more than nine, while others could be going on fourteen. Grace fell on the lower end, her changes just beginning to be impossible to ignore.

Her new age made her eligible for travel meets. Gale asked. Grace insisted. Not far away. Just a few hours' drive. With my wife out of town someone had to stay with the dog, so I couldn't accompany. Not sure they wanted me to anyway.

The first night we Facetimed. Grace was chatty, excited for her events. Gale thought she'd do well.

Gale. The woman's face appeared next to my daughter's. She'd told me they'd room together.

"Hello Scott." A wry smile.

"Gale." My voice was dry because my mouth was dry. As she moved I could see she was wearing a hotel bathrobe.

"Brad tells me the treatment is going well."

"Does he."

"He says you've been forgetting to have her properly dressed."

Grace rolled her eyes.

"He tells you everything, I suppose." A knot had formed in my stomach.

"Yes. Everything." She touched Grace's cheek from behind. "Lift your arms, sweetpea." Her tone was casual. Grace complied without apparent hesitation. Gale pulled my daughter's tank top off and smoothed her hair. The nipples that crowned her subtle swells stood out. Her cheeks bloomed a delicate pink. I felt mine warm as well.

I tried to look away. "If you don't want to watch, Scott, you can hang up."

I looked back at the screen. "Right. I thought so." Gale's hands covered my daughter's chest. "Your Dad wants to watch, kitten. What do you think?"

Grace looked back. Chewed her lip. "I guess so." It was clear that she wouldn't deny the woman anything.

"But we won't show him too much. I'm not sure how much he can take, really."

Grace giggled. "You should see how he looks at Brad. When Brad's touching between my legs."

"That look is called jealousy. Get used to it."

Gale's hand slid lower, down Grace's tummy and out of sight.

"Mmmm. My hand's in her pants, Scott. She's wet. She gets quite wet for a girl her age. She's a horny little thing. Aren't you, Grace?"

"I... can't help it."

"You don't need to help it."

My daughter's eyes went soft and she leaned back in the chair. My gaze was locked to her face as it passed through the gamut of her pleasure, her breath quickening in her throat. Gale worked at the child's nipples, each in turn until they thickened between her thumb and finger. Then a gasp, a sharp intake of air... a deep shudder.

Gale kissed the top of her head. "That's my girl. That was a good one. Say goodnight to Daddy. We need to sleep for tomorrow."

"'Nite Daddy." The softest smile.

"Have fun jerking off, Scott. Talk soon." The screen went blank.

**************************

The situation was confounding. Gale and Grace I could somewhat understand. Girls have crushes. Gale's strength is compelling in its own way. Grace discovered that she had goals for herself and Gale was helping her to achieve them. It was still unnatural, I thought. Exploitative. But Grace was enthralled and I couldn't find it in me to shatter her tender young heart. So I told myself.

Brad was different. I couldn't really fathom why I'd let him do everything he did. When I closed my eyes at times I'd see him with Grace, his big hands groping. And his voice. 'Unzip my pants.' It echoed.

Then I woke one morning from a dream that I knew was a memory. Cousin Tim, visiting from California. Him fourteen, me all of eight. Shared my room for a week. Of course I thought he was amazing. He wasted no time in revealing new wonders to me. That first night, watching him openly jerk off next to me, was both terrifying and fascinating. I tried to imitate but wasn't particularly successful. It was enough to convince him that I was at least curious.

The second day after school I was anxious to watch him again. "Nope," he said. He was a boy of few words.

"How come?" I suppose I looked disappointed.

"Cuz you're gonna give me a blowjob."

"I am?"

"Yup."

"W-what's a blowjob?"

"Unzip my pants," he said.

That last bit I may have transposed from the present. What I now remember is that I spent much of that week with Cousin Tim's eager erection in my mouth. Funny how the mind works. This had somehow gotten buried deep inside me.

The other thing I remember is this: when he left at the end of the week, I cried.

**************************

I got Grace to her next physical therapy appointment properly dressed for the occasion. Perhaps properly undressed would be more accurate. Loose shorts, no underpants. The implication was clear. Access was permitted.

Grace seemed to appreciate my attention to this detail. She was all abuzz about the meet. She hadn't won anything, but the excitement of the competition clearly energized her. She'd swum well enough to make Gale proud, and that was enough.

Brad's demeanor was maddeningly cheery and professional, his hand on my shoulder in greeting. Grace bubbled on about the meet as she worked on the hip exercises. Her range of motion had definitely improved. Her skin glowed as she broke a sweat.

Brad patted the table. "Take your shorts off and hop up."

Grace paused. "I thought if I wore the shorts then..."

"Sometimes. It's just easier this way." His big friendly hand on her head. She glanced my way. I could only shrug. The doctor knows best, my face tried to say. It was nice to see that she could still blush as she complied.

He worked her legs like usual, splaying them this way and that, all the while resting his hands where they didn't really need to be.

"Great progress, Grace. We're on track. Still, I'd like to check another set of muscles that we haven't really tested yet."

"Another? I think I'm sore all over."

"In your core. I gave your Dad the brochure last time."

"Oh. The pelvic... whatever?"

"Yes, that's it."

"He didn't let me read it. He threw it out the car window."

"Did he now. So he didn't explain it to you."

She shook her head.

Brad clucked. "Really Scott. Withholding medical information from your daughter."

"I didn't expect... that you'd actually... that she..."

"It's my recommended course of treatment. Do you consent? We do need to be explicit here, since there's been some... noise... around this particular therapy."

"What is it?" asked Grace.

"There's a very important set of muscles at the base of your abdomen. They knit together your insides and they're a source of power when you execute elements like flip turns. They run right along here." He passed a finger over Grace's lower tummy, only slightly above her bare sex. "And here." He traced down the cleft between her leg and the rise of her pudendum. She squirmed. He left his hand to rest there. "We want to see how strong they are, and give you some exercises to build them up."

"Turns are important."

"They are for sure. It doesn't matter how fast you swim if you lose time in the turn."

"Okay. Then we should do it."

"Grace..." I tried, my voice feeling feeble. "It involves him putting... fingers i-inside you."

"Oh." Her lip quivered.

Brad nodded. "That's why I gave you the brochure. So you could talk about it."

Grace threw daggers my way with her eyes.

"Sorry, sweetheart." It was the best I could do. "You can decide if you want to do it." I should have said no, but this was her dream. She had to take responsibility for the decisions. So I told myself.

"It's something Gale suggested. It's usually for older girls, but she said you're mature enough to handle it." The bastard. He knew exactly what buttons to push.

"D-does it hurt?"

"Gale seems to think that in your case, it's unlikely."

Of course Gale thinks that. She's already had her grownup fingers in my daughter's quim.

"Okay." Grace sounded resolute. I was impressed with her courage, which oddly translated into leakage from my penis.

Brad turned to me. "It's her choice," I said. Trusting my daughter. Empowering her. Removing my responsibility. All good things.

Brad adjusted himself in his pants. "Okay then. Make frog legs and try to relax, Grace. This will feel weird. Tell me if it hurts.

He made a show of spreading lubricant on his fingers. No glove. Parted her upper folds gently and unabashedly spent a solid minute tickling the underside of her exposed clitoris. She looked down and swallowed.

"It's much easier if you're a little slippery too. You know what I mean."

She laid back and stared at the ceiling, her breath uneven.

Brad probed her entrance carefully with his middle finger. "There we are. Much easier now." He slid in steadily to the second knuckle. Paused. "Okay so far?" A quick nod. In a moment his palm was flat against her mons, his thumb nestled in her cleft, undulating slowly. "All in now. It's not the first thing that's been there, is it?"

Grace closed her eyes. Shook her head slowly.

"That's my girl. I'm going to press to the sides now to feel the muscle tone." Grace winced at the pressure. "Okay... that's it... that was the worst of it. Now I want you to feel them. Tighten your tummy and bear down like you're trying to pee. But don't actually pee on me, okay?"

An embarrassed grimace. "Okay."

"That's it. Nice and tight. Hold it as long as you can." Her face showed the effort. "Good. Now relax. Just like that. Now, tight again and hold it. Perfect. One more. Good. Remember that feeling."

Grace swallowed, her bottom shifting. Brad stayed embedded for another full minute, his thumb clearly stimulating my daughter.

He covered his actions with chatter. "You can practice this anywhere. When you pee, stop and start a few times. And when you masturbate, squeeze down on your finger." So matter-of-fact. Grace glowed crimson. He withdrew very slowly.

"Well done, Grace. Are you okay?"

"Ya." A forced smile.

"It'll help, I promise."

"T-that's all the matters. So I can swim fast."

"Gale will be proud of you."

Her smile was genuine this time.

"Good girl. Get dressed and give me a minute with your Dad."

She was out the door in a flash, giving me side-eye on the way.

I tried to preempt things. "I don't want to... do that... again."

"You mean suck my cock? Yes you do. But not this time. You haven't earned it."

He put his middle finger under my nose. "Lovely, isn't it?" I had to close my eyes. Her. Delicate... hints of warm earth without the obscene miasma of adulthood.

I couldn't speak. He pressed the finger to my lips. I let it enter my mouth. Slightly bitter on my tongue.

"That's as close as you're going to get to her. Remember that I'm giving you this gift. So when I give directions, I expect them to be followed. Do you understand?"

I could only nod as he slowly withdrew his finger. He chuckled when I couldn't stand without adjusting myself.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	3. Vicarious - Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Three

"What did he say?" Grace, on our way home from physical therapy. From Brad, and Brad's fingers.

"He said you're doing fine. In fact, we may be able to stop seeing him soon."

She looked right through me. "He didn't say that to me."

"Well no. Medical information. Parental privilege. I have to approve things, after all."

"I'm old enough to decide, Daddy. We just started the... new stuff."

"The new stuff. Yes. That's... I mean..."

"Weird. Ya. But Gale said my turns have to be better."

"But you didn't mind the..." I found myself unable to complete sentences.

She shrugged. "The most embarrassing thing is you're there."

"Well. He said I have to be there." This seemed to be a sentence I could complete.

"How come you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd ever want him to... do that."

"You didn't even ask."

"I'm sorry. You're right. You should be able to decide. I let you decide today, didn't I?"

"Ya. Thanks."

An awkward silence ensued. I couldn't leave it alone.

"The way he touches you... it's..."

"Ya. It drives me crazy."

"It does?"

"God ya. I wish he'd just go ahead and make me cum."

That isn't quite what I'd thought she might say. The last word pierced my brain like an icicle falling from a third-story eave. My frozen cerebrum managed to form a response. "Grace... that's not how things are supposed to be... he's taking advantage..."

"Don't be dumb, Daddy. He can tell I like it. I get so wet. Gale says he's a DWB."

I felt blood pounding at my temples. "DWB?"

"Doctor With Benefits. Like a Friend With Benefits. But a Doctor." Stated as though obvious.

This silence was more stunned, for me at least. The ease with which Grace now expressed these things -- as thought they were somehow par for the course -- was astonishing.

"I... didn't know that was a thing." Something being a thing. Relating to her in youth-speak. Made me feel relevant.

Thankfully she didn't tease me about it. "Dunno. But I can breast stroke now without my hips killing me."

"That's... good."

She patted my knee, almost parental. "It's okay, Daddy. Besides, Gale says you like to watch. Like at the meet. You watched."

"I want to be sure you're okay, sweetheart. It's scary for me." Both of these statements were entirely true, even if somewhat incomplete.

"She said that too. That you're scared of me growing up. How I'm not your little girl anymore."

"That's..." I hated hearing Gale's words in my daughter's mouth, even if they were as sharp and true as a brand-new razor.

Grace smiled softly and reached to squeeze my hand. "You'll always be my Daddy. I guess if you want to watch... I can get used to it."

"Y-You can?"

"It's awks. But if you want to know I'm okay... I don't want you to be scared, Daddy."

**************************

My wife Patricia has always put her career first. I knew this about her before we were married. It's something I respect about her. She's climbed the ladder steadily at her consulting firm, and she's provided a very comfortable living for our family. It's allowed me to stay home and work on my writing. I haven't sold anything yet, but I hope I will someday.

Despite being away most of the time, Pat has found ways to stay close to Grace. They Facetime every day. Sometimes I join them, but they always say they need time to themselves for "girl talk," whatever that means. I respect their privacy. Grace is getting older now and there are I'm sure there things that only a mother can understand.

"Do you talk to your mother about... Gale?" I managed to ask one day.

Grace shrugged. "We talk about everything. Mom's so cool. She understands stuff."

"Oh." I absorbed that for a moment. "And about... B-Brad?"

"Ya. She says if I want to be great at swimming I got to go for it."

"I see." I swallowed. "So she knows... with Gale..."

"Ya. She said she fell in love when she was my age too. It was a man but still, she totally gets it."

"She was in love with a man when she was 11?"

"Ya. Her piano teacher."

"An adult man."

Grace blinked at the obviousness. "Well ya."

"And they..."

She giggled. "All the time. She said she sucked at piano but the lessons were awesome."

"He took advantage of her."

"Nuh uh. She said she got really horny like I do, even then. Even when she was little."

"I see." My heart skipped a few beats. "When she was... little."

"Ahuh. Girls get those feelings. I had them since I was little too."

"Y-You did?"

"Ya. Mom showed me how."

"How?"

"You know. How to... do it to myself."

"Oh. Right. Of course." I didn't want to seem dense. "When did she do that, sweetpea?"

"Geez... I don't even remember, really. I guess I was like five. She said I had my hand in my pants all the time anyways and I shouldn't do it in public so she showed me and told me to do it in my room."

"R-right. That's... that's good."

Grace leaned over and kissed my cheek. I looked a question her way.

"You're so sweet, Daddy. It's nice to be able to talk to you about this stuff. Mom wasn't sure you'd understand. We don't have to hide anything anymore."

"Errr. Thanks, princess... I think it's... nice too."

**************************

My next conversation with Pat, on the phone as usual.

"I've had some interesting talks with Grace," I ventured.

"Oh? Tell me." She was always quite direct. She said she had to be to earn respect from her executive clients.

"She told me about your piano teacher, and that you know about her and... Gale."

"I see. How did you react, Scott?" Her voice was curious but utterly calm.

"Well. I was a little surprised that you'd... approve."

"She's an intelligent, mature girl. I can tell that she's totally in love. Gale's a lovely woman. Grace deserves to make her own choices, as long as she's safe."

"Like you did."

"Yes, Scott. Like I do."

Her use of the present tense was jarring. My silence was telling.

"Scott. Please. You know me. You can't possibly imagine that I'm away from home this much and not doing anything to meet my needs. I've always assumed that you understood this. I just haven't made a point of it. Home is home. You're my husband and I respect that."

"I... I see."

"Are you okay? I love you, Scott. I always have. Your ability to understand me is a huge part of that."

In that moment, I couldn't let myself believe that I hadn't known. How ridiculous would that be, for me to have been so profoundly blind and stupid? That's not me. I'm not so naive and pathetic. I must have known. And at some level, I must have decided that it was okay. After all, I've had the benefits... all the time at home... time for my writing...

"I'm... okay. Of course. I love you too."

**************************

At home with Pat. I'd been hungry for her and taken her to bed as soon as she walked in the door. She smiled gently, surprised. In my urgency, it was over quickly.

She nuzzled my neck. "My my. That was a lovely greeting."

Perhaps I had a lack of blood to the brain. The words were out of my mouth before I thought.

"I'd been thinking about what you said. About..."

She seemed to understand. "I always assumed that things were better left unsaid. No need to bring my work home with me. It takes up so much of my life as it is. When I'm here, I want to leave it behind."

"It's hard not to think about it."

Her lips at my ear. "Is that so. What do you think about, exactly?"

"About you. And someone..."

"A man? Do you think about me with a man, Scott? Or with a woman?"

"Sometimes... either... or... both."

"I see. Tell me more." Her hand slid down my stomach and caressed me. To my own surprise, I was hard again.

"You're so s-strong. I think about you and a man... where you're... in charge..."

"Hmmm. I can see how you'd think that. But it's different, really. At work, I have to be strong. In private, sometimes it's nice to let someone else be in charge." She was tugging at me now, slowly, relentlessly.

"Oh." This hadn't occurred to me.

In an instant she'd mounted me, her warmth swallowing my hardness, her hands pinning my shoulders to the bed, her eyes locked to mine.

I returned her stare helplessly "I thought... you didn't want to be in charge."

"Depends on the man. Now shush while I fuck you."

There was a knock. "Dinner's getting cold," said Grace through the door.

"Warm it in the oven," said Pat, her voice preternaturally even.

Grace giggled while her footsteps retreated.

**************************

Strange as it was, we were able to talk after that. My shame was still there, but somehow having all the feelings out in the open made things easier.

"Grace says you like to watch her." Pat, her head on my chest, a Sunday night. She'd leave on her next trip in the morning.

"I... I want to be sure she's safe."

She pinched my arm hard but chuckled warmly.

"Of course you do. You're a wonderful father, Scott. I mean that."

"Thanks." Somehow I knew that wouldn't be the end of it.

"It also turns you on."

"No." A reflexive response. She stayed quiet, giving me space. "Well," I finally said. It was enough.

"It's okay. I think about it too. Imagining her. You're lucky."

"I am?"

"She's okay with it. She's only just eleven after all. It's comforting for her to know that you're looking out for her."

"Oh."

"Yes. But Scott." She gathered her words. "It's important that you make sure that's what it is. You keeping her safe. Your... response is natural. I saw the looks in men's eyes when I was her age. Lots of men. Most of them, if they'd admit it to themselves. But it would probably severely mess her up if you took it further."

"Oh... Of course... I wouldn't e-ever..."

She kissed my forehead. "You might. You think about it. I can understand. But don't. She loves you more than anything, as a father. That she can be open with you about her feelings is a gift to treasure. Don't fuck it up."

I could only nod.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	4. Vicarious - Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Four

Grace is chatty on the way to her next physical therapy appointment. In the car she goes on about her problems mastering geometry as she casually reaches under her school skirt and pushes her underpants down to her ankles. She tugs them off over her sneakers and digs in her bag for her shorts. She's stopped trusting me to bring them and now keeps them in her backpack.

I can't help but stare, then scan anxiously for other nearby drivers who might be peeping at my wantonly exposed little girl. I almost drive off the road in the process.

Grace rolls her eyes. "You're so cute, Daddy. Not like you haven't seen me before."

She's right, of course. But her casual lack of modesty is new. It affects me, physically. When we arrive I wait until Grace gets out of the car so that I can covertly adjust.

In the office, Grace rushes Brad, hugs him around the waist. "Thirty-five," she says, beaming up.

He grins, feigns disbelief, his large hand at the back of her head. "No way."

"Yes way. Thirty-five flat. And it didn't hurt."

"That's my girl. I'm very proud of you, Grace." Her cheeks bloom pink.

"Ummm?" I'm clueless.

Brad indulges me, translating the secret language he's speaking with my daughter. "Fifty meter breaststroke, Scott. The world record for junior girls is twenty-seven seconds, I think. Grace's time is better than the winning time at States last year."

"Oh. That's... awesome, princess."

Grace winces at the pet name. _Not here,_ her face says. _Not in front of Brad._

She works through the hip exercises with a focused intensity that I haven't seen before. Brad pushes her to extra reps. When she stands her face shines with sweat, her knees wobbly from exertion.

Brad says, "You know what's next, Grace."

I think I know what he means, but this is more secret language.

"Ya. The hundred."

"That's right. How do you cut time from your hundred?"

"The turn."

"Exactly."

I begin to catch on. The one-hundred meter breaststroke. Two lengths of the pool, with a turn after the first half.

Brad touches her ear. "So, we'll work on that?"

Grace doesn't hesitate. "Ya."

I blink and when my eyes open she's naked and prone on the table. I see her bottom tense and relax, taut dimples in the sides of her rump. She's anticipating. To my shame, I realize that I am too.

"I'm going to put you in the stirrups today." Brad is matter-of-fact as he folds the metal wings out from the table and locks them in place.

"Okay?" Grace watches, uncertain.

Brad pauses. "Ah. I suppose you haven't had that sort of exam before. You act like a professional athlete, Grace. I forget how young you are."

I'm watching a master manipulator at work. Grace soaks up his words like a parched desert flower in a thunderstorm. Brad continues, the picture of patience and kindness. "These will hold your legs in place while we work."

"Okay." She swallows, her bottom tight.

Brad fastens the cuffs loosely around her ankles. Adjusts the angles and the height. The spread is not quite gynecological. Her butt is tilted up slightly, elevated from the table.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to fight my impulses. The obscenity of this is impossible to tolerate. Some part of my brain screams this. But the rational voice is washed away by the raging, pounding waves that well up from my painfully stiff cock.

Brad's smooth voice matches the fluid motion of his hands as he works, talking to her constantly. "There. Squeeze. Hold. Hold. More. Hold. Breathe. Hold... now... let it out. All the way. Relax."

Her aroma reaches me. Subtle, unmistakable. Brad's finger under my nose.

"This will feel strange, Grace. Just relax. It's part of the training."

Brad's middle digit gradually withdraws from my daughter's sex, shiny. It slips lower. Circles her tiny pale sphincter, teases it open and then invades, a millimeter at a time. Grace whimpers. Brad's gaze is locked onto her face. His thumb works a rubato at the apex of her cleft, back and forth. Grace's fingers clutch, crinkling the table's paper cover in her fists. Brad's movements are inexorably slow.

Finally she gasps, her chin to the ceiling. "Just... just do it already. Please. God. Just do it."

Brad pauses. Very quiet, his voice. "Do what, Grace?"

She swallows. Her head turns my way. Her face is a mask of helplessness. Mine is a reflection of hers.

"L-let me... Let me cum. Please."

Brad cups her cheek with his free hand. Bends to kiss her forehead. Grace's eyes meet his. He keeps his face close. His pointer drives into her sex, the middle pushed deeper below, thumb a blur as it works with purpose. It's only a moment before her back arches from the table, her suspended hips thrashing, a deep sound from somewhere far inside her chest. The paper cover is shredded beneath her. Eventually the spasms fade into twitches, the ropes of her muscles alive under her skin.

I close my eyes. When I open them, Brad's lips are at my daughter's mouth, her slender arms around his neck.

**************************

The next few minutes are hazy. At some point, Grace dresses and goes to the car.

Brad regards me thoughtfully. "Somehow you've made her more comfortable expressing what she wants. That's a big step. You feel closer to her now, don't you?"

I can only snort. "Closer. Ha."

"She feels empowered. It's lovely in a girl her age, to own her sexuality. You should be proud."

"Proud. Right." I want my voice to sound derisive, but I fail.

"A girl's face when she cums is the most profoundly beautiful sight. I see how it makes you hungry. You're a bit dangerous right now, I think."

"Dangerous?"

"We agreed that you wouldn't touch her. That's very important for you, and for her. You're not to cross any lines. You know that would be disastrous, don't you?"

"I... I suppose..."

"Right. So let's de-escalate." He opens a drawer and produces a plastic sample cup. "Jerk off into this."

"W-What?"

"You're more than ready, Scott."

"That's... I'm not..."

"Yes you are. You're not leaving here until you've relieved the pressure. That's today's price for the gift I've given you."

"I'm not dangerous. Not with her."

"Your intentions are good. But rational thoughts only control our actions to some degree. We know that, don't we?"

His hand at my crotch, he yanks my pants open. Grips me and pulls, hard. I'm leaking profusely. He smirks, tugs again. Light flash in my head. He withdraws his hand. Mine replaces it, suddenly desperate. It's over in a few seconds. I look down in shame to see Brad holding the cup, white froth running down the inside.

"There we go. Much safer now. Open up."

He pushes his middle finger into my mouth, between my teeth. Grace is there, soft and bitter. In a daze I struggle only a little as he empties the cup onto my tongue and extracts his finger.

**************************

Grace is quiet on the way home, hugs her knees to her chest, watches me uneasily. My tongue slides over my teeth, recent memories there.

Finally, "Daddy. Say something."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say, Grace."

"Say you're not mad. Or... disappointed. Or... I dunno."

"I'm... confused. And scared."

"Me too."

I seize on this. Words rush out of me. "Then all this should stop, Grace. Brad, and Gale and... all of it."

She shakes her head, very slowly. "No, Daddy. Not like that."

"Then... like what?"

"Like... I'm in love with them."

"Them?"

"Both. Of them."

_Fuck._

Somehow I'd begun to reconcile my conflicting feelings about Grace and Gale. Brad was another matter. My daughter is eleven. An adult man... her tiny body... Pat's piano teacher... _Fuck._

Grace senses my turmoil. "They're lovers, you know." She says this as though it may be helpful.

"Brad... and Gale?"

"Just sometimes. Mostly she likes girls, but she says sometimes... it's nice to have a..."

"Errrr." I'm desperate to stop her from saying the next word. My hand clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white. Grace reaches for it, twines her elegant fingers with mine. I let her touch release the tension. Our arms rest together between the seats.

"I'm glad you were there, Daddy."

"W-why?"

"Cuz I know nothing bad can happen when you're there."

Nothing bad. Nothing. Bad.

**************************

I'm reading in bed. I hear a murmur of voices from Grace's room. Facetime with her mother.

Bare footsteps now, approaching. I look up from my book. Grace in nothing but her underpants.

Pat's voice from the phone. "Upper right drawer, sweetie. In the back. Under the clothes."

My eyebrows arch. Grace digs into the drawer. Holds up what she finds. It's small, beige, tubular. She shows it to the phone.

"No honey. The other one."

"Oh." Grace digs again. The next find is larger, blue, and shaped like a penis.

"There you go."

Grace closes the drawer, pads to my bedside, the device in hand. Kisses my cheek. "'Nite Daddy. I love you."

"L-love you too... sweetheart."

She scampers from the room, whispering into the phone.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	5. Vicarious - Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Five

Pat's home. My wife and my daughter form a secret society of conspiratorial smirks and giggles. Oddly I feel like more than an observer. I think I know what they're grinning about.

I'm reading in bed. Pat and Grace are in her room, next door. I hear soft murmurs. My curiosity gets the best of me. I polish off the water in the glass on my nightstand. Does that old trick really work? I tiptoe to the adjoining wall and lift the glass... press it to the plaster with my ear.

The sounds are indistinct, but I can make out most of the words.

"It won't... it hurts..."

"Let me feel, sweetheart."

"There's... up there..."

"Of course. Because you've never... a finger fits but not... I'll count... on three... one... two..."

A high-pitched squeal. "Mommmm... you said on _three_..."

"Shhhh. Look down, sweetie."

"Oh. God. It stinnnggggsss... Am I..."

"A little. I got it."

Then whispers I can't make out, even as I strain my ear.

**************************

I try to hide how out of breath I am when Pat comes to bed. She takes the book from my hand, an intent look in her eyes. Pulls up her shirt. Nothing underneath. She straddles my face with her knees and pushes her quim against my mouth. I take the hint.

"Our little girl has a life-sized dildo in her cunny," she says. "Right this very moment."

I can't speak, my mouth and brain fully occupied.

Her voice turns wistful as she presses me against the headboard. "I wasn't ready, but I thought I was. When I was ten, I knew what Mister Simons wanted. My piano teacher. How he looked at me... I loved how he smelled and his big strong wandering hands... mmmmhhh... I teased him in little ways... until one day I... uuuhhhhhh... took off my underpants before I went inside... uuuuunnnnnn... he noticed... but I wasn't really ready... and... ohhhhhh god... it hurt so much..."

Her back arches as her heated sex crushes my tongue in its spasms. She kisses the top of my head and slides down my body, impales herself on my raging stiffness in one motion. Our lips meet. I flood her instantly.

**************************

I've reached a strange, sanguine state of mind. My preteen daughter and I and her... coach... girlfriend... lover... chat after swim practice. They emerge together from the Family Changing Room, hair wet but combed, face aglow, subtle smiles. I can't stop myself from imagining... still, we talk as though this is all perfectly normal.

"How long is the drive to the meet?" I ask. The next competition, Saturday morning. We'll travel on Friday and spend the night near the venue.

"About two hours, depending on traffic," offers Gale. "You should leave early if you can."

"Right. We should be able to do that."

Gale purses her lips. "I'm not sure I can. My car's in the shop." I don't process the words, my gaze lost in the curve of the woman's mouth, my thoughts lost in where the lips have been.

"We can drive you," spouts Grace.

My brain catches up. "Errr."

"Can't we, Daddy? I mean, why not?" Grace squeezes Gale's hand under the table. Gale regards my discomfort with mild amusement.

I'm unable to construct a credible why not. Grace interprets my helpless shrug as victory.

"Yay! Road trip!" Grace's eyes sparkle toward her coach... girlfriend... lover.

**************************

"Shotgun!" Grace races to the car and touches the front passenger door, officially cementing her triumph.

"Crap," says Gale, playfully.

I'm relieved. The seating situation has been on my mind, each possible arrangement presenting a different form of awkward. This one seems the least problematic.

I glance in the rear view mirror more than necessary. Each time, Gale is still there. We pull onto the highway. Grace twists in her seat.

"Who else is in the hundred?" she asks.

Gale furrows her brow. "Why does that matter?"

"I dunno. Just... I want to know if I can beat them."

"Have you been working as hard as you can?"

"Ya."

"Are you ready to swim your best time tomorrow?"

"I think so." Gale waits. Grace understands. "Ya. I'm ready."

"Then why does it matter who else is in the pool?"

Grace chews her lip. "I guess it doesn't."

Gale leans forward and kisses her forehead. Grace's slender arms extend around Gale's neck. In my peripheral vision, I see their mouths come together.

"Eyes on the road, Scott," says the woman. I swallow and try to concentrate.

Gale's arms slip around my daughter and lift. Grace giggles and fumbles with the seatbelt... in a moment, it springs open and Grace tumbles upside down into the back seat, her flailing feet narrowly missing my temple. She lands with her face in Gale's lap and they both laugh.

They've made me a chauffeur, or a chaperone. A couple on their way to the prom. I hear the soft moist smacks of their kisses.

"Grace," I finally say.

"What?" A little breathless.

"Seatbelt. Please." I cling to a shred of parental authority.

"Grrrr." A baby tiger, my daughter. Reluctant rustling as she wriggles.

"No," says Gale. "Like this."

More rustles. A quiet chuckle. "Will it... is it... long enough?" A kick to the back of my seat. A metallic click. I glance at the mirror and Grace is in Gale's lap, sideways, one seatbelt around both of them.

I can't see their faces in the rearview. I can see their hands. Grace is the first to be overt, her fingers working under the waistband of Gale's shorts.

"Mmmm. Horny girl," Gale murmurs.

"I can't help it." Grace, gently plaintive.

"Shhh. I love how horny you are. Never be sorry for that."

I dare to look again. Hands are exchanged, Grace to Gale and vice versa, buried deep under clothes in mutual rhythm. Grace winces, a sharp intake of breath. The tent made by Gale's hand hesitates.

"Hmmm?" asks the woman.

"It's... sore... my mom..."

"Oh?"

"Ya. She... helped me... you know... break it."

"Oh. My. Did she?"

"Ya. She understands."

"That's so lovely, little one. Not so little now. Thinking grownup things."

"I can't help it."

"Shhhh."

The sounds shift, intensify, mount, intertwine in an ageless mashup. A small knee knifes into my back through the seat and then subsides. Breath and whispers before a long silence.

A hand on my shoulder. Gale.

"She's asleep, Scott. What an angel she is."

The hand touches my cheek. A finger extends, under my nose. I breathe because I have to, to stay alive.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	6. Vicarious - Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Six

Pat's face on my phone. "You made it okay? How was the drive?" She sounds relaxed.

"Not bad. We left early."

"Sorry that I can't be there tonight. I'll get there in time for the event in the morning. Where's our little mermaid?"

She likely reads the answer from my furrowed brow, but I say it anyway.

"With Gale. In Gale's room."

"Of course. I won't... disturb them." Her grin is conspiratorial. "What do you suppose they're doing?"

I don't let my brain consider this, but can't stop myself from speaking anyway.

"They... made out. In the car. On the way over."

"That's so sweet. Young love. There's nothing like it."

"I can only imagine."

"Not just imagine. You get to see it. That's precious. I hope you understand."

"I'm getting there. Are you sure she's okay?"

"She's rapturous. Can't you tell?"

"I suppose so. She won't... regret it... later?"

"A lot of that depends on us, Scott. We need to support her, and protect her."

"I don't feel like I'm protecting her."

"You're protecting her ability to make her own choices."

"She told you that Brad..." I swallow the rest of the sentence.

"Yes. She decided. That's how she described it. Is that how it happened? Did he force her?"

"N-no. Not in any explicit way. But he... led her to that point..."

"She was more than willing to be led. She told me she's been fantasizing about him when she masturbates since the first visit. Makes me anxious to meet him myself."

I have no response to this. Pat fills the silence.

"I wonder if Grace is licking Gale's pussy right now. If Gale's teaching her, giving her hints, fingers in her hair."

I try to make a non-committal noise but my breath escapes as a groan.

"Don't be ashamed, Scott. It excites me too. Just... don't relieve yourself tonight. Save it for me."

I grunt more urgently. She smiles indulgently. "You'll do that for me, won't you?"

I nod and show her both my hands.

"That's my boy. I love you, sweetheart. Sleep tight. See you in the morning."

"L-love you too."

**************************

Grace swims impressively. Subtle muscles slide like slender ropes beneath her pale smooth skin as she cuts through the water, a fierce diminutive torpedo, her hands slicing like knives. She wins her qualifying heat in the hundred meter breaststroke and places in the freestyle. She's third in the breaststroke finals, earning her first medal. It's actually metal. She inspects it and chews her lip.

Gale briskly towels her off. "I'm so proud of you, Grace." The woman's smile is fluorescent.

"But... third."

"Yes, third. So now I'll tell you who else was in the pool with you in the finals. The next youngest was thirteen. I pushed you up an age bracket because I knew you'd be an overmatch for anyone else your age."

Grace's eyes widen. Gale continues. "I've never seen a faster time for an eleven. You're faster than I was at your age. And I know you can be even faster."

They embrace a bit longer than might be appropriate in such a public setting. Grace squeals and hugs her mother, and then wraps her arms around my waist, soaking my shirt with her wet hair.

"Thank you, Daddy. Thank you thank you. For... helping me."

I can't stop my eyes from watering. I blame the chlorine in the air.

Pat's driver brought her to the meet that morning. That means a carpool home. My wife takes the front passenger seat, leaving Gale and Grace in the back. I'm resigned to the fact that there's no safe configuration.

Pat and Gale chat as though they're in the car alone. Good that they get to know each other. The usual questions. Grace seems a little anxious, clearly hoping that they'll get along. Finally Pat turns sideways to face the back seat. I can imagine the tone in her voice is usually reserved for CEOs. Crisp, direct, professional, unmistakably clear, but not threatening.

"My daughter's in love with you, Gale. Desperately so. Like only a girl her age can be." Pat offers Grace a reassuring smile. "Sorry, kitten. Gale and I need to have this talk." Grace blinks, offers a slight nod.

Gale is nonplussed, the first time I've seen her so. "I know. I... love her too."

"So she tells me. Seeing you together, I believe it. I'm giving you my permission. But don't mistake me. If you mistreat her in any way, it'll be ruinous for you. I know that you can make reciprocal threats, but I don't think you will."

"No. I won't."

"Good. We understand each other."

Gale meets Pat's steady gaze with her own. "Yes. I think we do. I think we have... things in common."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe we'll talk about that over a glass of wine sometime."

"Yes. Sometime."

Grace reaches for Gale's hand. Their fingers stay entwined for the rest of the trip.

**************************

Pat's at home the next Tuesday. She volunteers to take Grace to her physical therapy appointment. I'm both relieved and disappointed. I struggle to conceal both emotions.

On her return Pat perches on the arm of my office chair.

"How was it?" I manage.

"He was surprised to see me. It was a little awkward until I explained that Grace tells me everything. He looked at Grace and she just smiled, and from then on it was fine."

"You're... okay with him then?"

"Any concerns I had vanished when I saw them together. He treats her like an adult, like an athlete. She looks up to him, literally and figuratively. Of course she has a crush on him. How could she not? He really has helped her in more ways than one. The focus and motivation she has now... it's so different from most girls her age. Most lose their way as they start to change, lose their self-esteem and withdraw. Grace is blossoming. I think we owe a lot to Gale and Brad."

"Owe them?"

"I know. It's difficult for you to process. If I hadn't been in love at her age I probably wouldn't understand either."

"He treated her... internally?"

She chuckles softly. "Yes. It's real, you know. That therapy. It's not made up. He's just... enhanced it with her. I held her hand. It was lovely. She came at least twice, maybe more... sometimes the little ones don't show as much. He's clearly very experienced."

"Was she... in the..." I'm ashamed at my incoherence. Pat seems to understand.

"Stirrups. Yes."

"That doesn't scare her?"

"I asked her on the way home. She said it did a little, the first time."

"But not this time?"

"She said it was 'kinda good scary.'"

"What does that mean?"

"Hmmm. I don't suppose you've experienced that. You've never been bound. For sex, I mean."

I can only shake my head and change the subject. Not that the new subject is any easier.

"Did you... stay after?"

"Yes. Brad wanted to talk to me about her progress."

"Progress. Right." I swallow. "Did he... approach you?"

Pat cups my cheek in her hand. "No, sweetheart. He was a perfect gentleman." I visibly relax, but that's not the end of it. She continues nonchalantly. "But I could tell he was in a state, so I offered."

"Offered?"

"I thought it was the polite thing to do."

Her response is clear enough, but for some strange reason I want her to say it.

"Offered what?"

She regards me tenderly. Runs her thumb over my lips. "A blowjob, Scott. I gave Brad a blowjob." She drops her hand to my lap, feels me through my pants, reads my pained expression. "You know that I love you more than anything?"

I nod feebly. She unzips me and her mouth joins her hand. I cum in fifteen seconds.

**************************

Thursday with Brad. The exercises over, they chat about her meet as Grace steps out of her shorts for the rest. She doesn't need to be told anymore. Brad is effusive with praise for her performance in the pool.

"Take off your shirt too, Grace," he says with a calm smile.

"How come?" I'm surprised to see her blush, after all that's happened.

"For no other reason than I want to see you naked," he replies. He's readied her for this, their interplay more explicit with each visit.

She looks down, still shy about her lack of development, so far just elegant swells, the nipples slightly enlarged. Her mother is svelte, 30B, perfect in my mind. Not obscene or intimidating. Grace will likely be the same. She complies, mussing her short hair, drops the shirt awkwardly on the workout room chair, crosses her arms over her chest.

"There's my girl," he says. Brad pats the table and she hops up. Grace relaxes as he works her hips, her arms at her sides. She squirms when he raises the stirrups. He tightens the cuffs snugly around her ankles this time. Touches her tummy before his hand moves lower.

"You're already wet, Grace." Just a fact, so stated.

She looks at the wall. "I can't help it."

"I know. It's lovely."

Brad administers the therapy without his usual attention to her clitoris. Grace's breathing quickens. By the end her hips are twisting, rolling her elevated bottom in ways unsubtle. He withdraws his hands and cups her knees. "That's great, Grace. I can feel the muscle tone building."

She nods, her eyes blinking, needful. He waits.

"Aren't you going to..." she breathes.

He tilts his head, feigning surprise. "You're a big girl now, Grace."

"I... guess so?" She seems unsure why this question is relevant right now.

"Big girls ask for what they want."

She swallows. "I want to c-cum..."

"There we go. How do you like to cum? With Gale. What does she do?"

"She... with her mouth..."

"Yes. Tell me."

"She... licks me..."

He waits. Then, "Say it, kitten."

"P-please... lick me."

He reaches up to touch her hair. "It will be my pleasure, Grace."

Brad is gentle at first, then relentless. He buries a finger deep into her bottom as he assaults her with lips and tongue. His hands run up her body to her chest and he pinches her nascent distended nipples. I lose track of time and lose count of her apparent climaxes. In a haze I see her finally twitch... wince... push his head away, now too sensitive. She's dressed and out the door before I fully come to, realizing I'm now alone with Brad.

He chuckles as he regards my befuddled expression. Hands me the plastic cup.

"Time to de-stress, Scott."

My urgency overwhelms my shame. I can't help myself. The cup warms in my hand as I fill it.

"There we go. All safe now," he says. I suppose I should find this patronizing, but I'm still too foggy. My gaze drops to his shorts, which are notably tented.

He follows my eyes. "Not today. It's funny... this story is like Goldilocks. I've had Papa Bear, and Momma Bear. Who comes next?"

I blink, not immediately getting it. Neurons finally fire. "Oh."

"Say it."

"B-baby bear."

"Exactly. The next lips on my cock will be your daughter's. Think about that, Scott. Just imagine. Now drink up."

The contents of the cup have cooled as they reach my tongue.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	7. Vicarious - Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Seven

Late afternoon on Tuesday. Pat and Grace fairly tumble into the house, giggling like schoolgirls. Somehow it suits them both. I can't help but smile as I look up from my second cup of coffee and take in their ruddy faces, breathe in the envelope of the outdoors they carry with them. I catch the tail end of their chatter.

Grace whispers, "But isn't it nasty... when he..."

Pat's hand on her shoulder. "It's earthy and strange and wonderful. You watch his eyes. How he needs you, right then... it's amazing." They break off when they notice me at the kitchen table.

Only part of me wants to know, but I can't stop that part from asking. "How was it?"

With a look, Grace defers to her mother. Pat touches my cheek. "It was lovely, sweetheart." She held my gaze, letting me decide how far to take the conversation.

My voice seems to come from outside me. "Last time he... with her..."

Grace blushes. Pat is patient. "Use your words, honey."

"Did he l-lick her..."

"Oh God. It made me so jealous. I wanted to trade places with both of them."

"Geez Mom... you're so bad." Grace, with a shy snort.

"I can't help it, sweetpea."

"I know. Me neither." Mother-daughter bonding. How endearing.

Pat kisses Grace's forehead. "Homework, kitten. I need some time with your father."

Grace smirks. "Time. Haha."

"Yes. Time. A nice long time riding his lovely tongue. Now scoot."

**************************

Pat wastes no time, strips only from the waist down, plants me on my back and seats her quim firmly on my mouth. She faces away from me and opens my pants. My hardness arcs above my stomach and she tickles underneath, just below the cleft. Her only sounds are low and guttural until she cums for the first time, crushing me into the mattress. As her breath slows she eases up a bit, but her posture makes it clear that she's not finished. She tickles me again and I drip profusely... a soft muffled whimper escapes my throat.

"Mmmmm... so nice... I need this." She twists her hips, smearing my face with her heated slick. She knows my signals and uses them with precision, bringing me to the brink with her fingers... withdrawing at the exact moment... I lose count of how many times.

As her intensity builds to her second climax, she breathes her words. "You want to know, don't you?"

I can only grunt, her need testing the endurance of my tongue.

"I did, Scott. I sucked him off. I drank his cum. I held him in my mouth until he was soft to get every drop."

My cock twitches, expels a clear pearl. She carefully massages it over my straining tip with her thumb.

"Grace was there. She watched me. Still in the stirrups. I couldn't wait. I yanked his pants down and stuffed him into my mouth while our little girl stared."

"Uuuunnnnnnnnhhhhhhh." She withdraws her hand. My body tenses, then goes limp. Ecstatic frustration.

"She didn't just watch. She touched herself. Still horny after a thorough tongue-lashing. She's insatiable."

I pant desperately through my nose, my mind lost in her scent. She grips me firmly and strokes three times... releases. I go rigid for a moment before I fall over the edge into the abyss, spew like a ruptured steam pipe. My cock dances alone, desperately missing its absent partner but unable to restrain its frenzied jitterbug. Her cunt spasms as she watches my ruined thrashing.

She slips off and snuggles at my side, her lips at my ear. "You're perfect, Scott. Perfect for me. Perfect for us. I love you more than anything."

Her finger runs over my tummy, then touches my lips. A familiar taste, an overlay to the sheen of her musk on my face. "He told me, Scott," she whispers. "He told me that you blew him. How he keeps you safe. You don't have to hide from me. Not anything, not ever. You're mine and I'm keeping you."

**************************

"You and Mom are so cool."

These are words that any father would long to hear but never dare to expect from a daughter on the cusp of maturity.

"Oh?"

"Ya. How you're so... like... not stuck up."

"Stuck up."

"Ya. You do whatever makes her happy."

"I try my best."

"It's so cool to see." Her smile warms me from the inside out. "And me too, Daddy. You make me happy too."

"There's nothing more important to me than that, Grace."

She basks in this a bit before changing the subject.

"Mom says I need a boyfriend."

"She does?"

"Ya. Like... more my age."

"Oh. So not..."

"Brad? She says I'm not ready for him. Gale says so too."

"Well, of course, Grace. You're only eleven." I feel some relief.

"Ya. I mean, Mom could hardly even get him in her mouth. It's pretty huge."

This wasn't what I'd meant by quoting her age. "He's an adult, Grace. You're still... you shouldn't..."

"Boys my age are gross."

"I suppose I have to agree with that."

"Mom says maybe somebody fifteen."

"Fifteen."

"Ya. To practice."

Somehow my ability to compartmentalize allows me to give my daughter advice on this topic with seeming rationality. Inside I'm screaming, but my voice is oddly calm. "That sounds... transactional."

"What's that mean?"

"You'd just be using him for sex. That's not a nice thing to do, Grace."

"So I should like him too?"

"That's how it should be. Like your mother and me."

She considers this for a long moment. "Ya. That's cool. Thanks, Daddy."

I feel a flush of fatherly pride.

**************************

"A fifteen-year-old?" Pat and I are undressing for bed.

"Seems the right compromise. Brad wants her, but Gale and I agree we should make him wait."

"I'm glad for that part."

Pat takes my hand and meets my eyes. "I won't let her be hurt. I promise."

"I know. Just... it's all pretty confusing."

"Only confusing?" Her fingers under the waist of my boxers. My body doesn't lie.

"I guess not."

"You're as randy as a teenager yourself these days."

"I... can't help it."

She tugs at me slowly. "I wish I'd known you back then. I'd have been thirteen."

"You had your piano teacher."

"That's different. It didn't stop me from fucking boys."

"Oh." I swallow.

"You were cute. I remember your high school yearbook. I would have been all over you."

"R-really?"

"Oh ya. I would have gotten you alone, and then I would have done this." She pushes her underpants to her knees... turns on her tummy and lifts her rump, her chest flat against the mattress.

I run my fingers through her folds and press two inside... they slip easily through her fluid heat.

"Not much on foreplay, were you?" I tease.

"Boys that age don't need it. Makes them cum too fast. I didn't figure out til later that I should get them off once before letting them inside."

"Fair point."

"Scott."

"Yes, my love."

"Shut up and fuck me."

I get the impression that she'd said these same words to many of those lucky boys.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	8. Vicarious - Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Eight

I don't allow myself to reflect on the obscenity of the scene. My daughter, just eleven, naked and splayed in restraints, soaking in Brad's attentions, twinkles of need in her eyes, his smile calm and gentle, fingers relentless, mouth insistent.

He looks up at Grace over her tummy. "Do you think about me when you masturbate, Grace?"

His tone is almost clinical, so matter-of-fact. It should mortify a girl to be so accused. Grace looks away, incongruously demure. Brad prompted. "I'd like that. If you did."

Her nod is almost imperceptible. He seizes the opening. "What do you think about? You can tell me."

She stares at the wall, her cheeks deeper red. "I think about... k-kissing... kissing you..."

Brad's expression drains, his subtle irony fades. His reaction helps me understand him a bit more. So far, this had been something of a game, Grace a thing to be had, me a source of amusement. He brushes the inside of her thigh with his lips and she trembles as he moves to stand at her side. His hand cups her chin, surrounding it, turning it to his. He bends close. I can feel his breath on her forehead.

"You've never kissed a boy, have you? Or a man."

"Just... Gale. And my Dad. But..."

"That's not the same, is it? Kissing your Dad. That's not what we mean."

Her eyes meet mine as she shakes her head slowly. "Not the same."

Brad nudges the table with his knee and the end under Grace's bottom folds down. The gynecologist's configuration. He steps between her legs, the tent of his shorts level with her splayed sex. Her wide-eyed gaze follows his approach. Brad leans in, his face close to hers. Grace closes her eyes, licks her lips, awaiting him.

"No," he says. "You. You kiss me."

She opens her eyes, timid but hungry. Her pale slender arms snake around his neck and she pulls herself up, her cheek against his. His hips press forward, the rigid snake in his shorts grinds against her. Her small wet mouth seeks his with a gasp.

He lets her kiss him, to a point. Quick nibbles, then more. Her tiny lithe body squirms under him, against him. He presses her to the table with his chest, wetly consuming her lips and chin. A large hand between her legs... the middle finger penetrates easily to the knuckle and Grace shudders, breath in pants through her nose. The thick digit begins a slow piston but soon builds to a blur. A guttural sound escapes my daughter. An animal sound, so unlike a little girl. My little girl. She kisses him forever until he gently smiles down.

"What you imagined?" he whispers.

"M-more..." she breathes.

Grace's knees are shaky as she dresses. She kisses my cheek on her way to the car. Brad approaches my chair without a word. Straddles my knees, presenting himself. I can't help but breathe. Her mellow aroma wafts from the dark wet stain on his shorts.

"Your wife gives good head. She obviously enjoys it. That's a lovely trait in a woman. You're very lucky."

I realize that I've been staring at his crotch. I look up, attempt to frame a rejoinder. Brad cuts me off.

"But you're different. You may not like sucking cock, but somewhere deep inside, you need it. That's special too."

I swallow. He continues. "Your daughter's scent on me. In your nose. In your mouth. You'll love it, Scott. You know you will." His shiny finger at my nostrils.

I blink, try to shake my head. He chuckles and pulls my neck forward, my cheek caressing the outline of his hardness.

"Shhhh. Go on then."

My fingers know more than I do. They work to expose him and then he's inside, my hesitation gone somewhere far away. I can almost see it receding into the distance as his rigid heat fills my mouth.

"There we go. It's your nature, I think." I glance up to see him watching me, his face oddly kind, his tone perversely friendly. "They asked me to wait. Gale and Pat. They're right, I suppose. I mean, can you imagine this cock in Grace's mouth? Or in her cunt? She's so tiny. Still a child, though no longer innocent. I reluctantly had to admit that she's not ready." He sighs with a wry grin. "But Scott... you should have seen her face when she watched her mother blow me. Your baby girl couldn't take her eyes off my dick. I guess it's the first real one she's seen."

He grunts as he cums, flooding my throat. I choke and gag. A mess on my chin that runs down to my pants.

Brad snorts. "You're out of practice." I manage to stop myself before I reflexively apologize. My attempt at a glare feels weak. He touches my face. "Don't worry, Scott. I won't wait forever. You'll get to see it all, I promise."

**************************

At the pool, Gale and Pat sit together chatting like old chums. Grace is working on her starts with another coach. I can't help but recall scenes from "Man on Fire." Denzel Washington and Dakota Fanning. _The gunshot holds no fear._

"Have you... tried any of them?" asks my wife.

Gale feigns an aghast look. "The boys? Heavens no. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate some of them for their beauty, but... it's not enough to make me go there." Gale narrows her eyes. "But it's occurred to you, hasn't it?"

My wife actually blushes. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that she has cougar fantasies. Pat turns her gaze back to the water before speaking. "I... initiated a few. When I was younger. Much younger." Pat's face is like a movie screen playing her memories.

"I can imagine some fun in that. Directing all that awkward desperation."

"So... I'll pick the body, and you pick the personality. You know them a bit."

Gale blinks mild surprise. "Doesn't Grace have a say in this?"

"Sure. But we have to protect her, don't we? We'll just... plant the seed."

"So to speak," said Gale.

"Oh no. Not so to speak. No baby bump for my baby."

"Well. No risk of that yet, is there?"

"No. But could be any time now, I think. Girls start earlier these days. Something about hormones in meat."

"That's a nice working definition of a teenage boy. Hormones in meat."

"Touche. But we want one with a brain. Let's go for a geek, not a cocky moron."

"Hmmm. A geek swimmer. Tall order."

"Someone kind. Soft eyes. Brown eyes. The kind that melt you."

Gale reaches out and brushes Pat's hair back. "What was his name? Your brown-eyed geek?"

Pat turns to me, points with her chin. "Scott. His name is Scott."

My turn to melt.

**************************

Grace has her say after all. We three see her watch the boy across the pool. His skin is bronze, almost reddish where the sleek lines of his thigh-length tech suit, smooth muscles outlined beneath. An unruly flourish of chestnut hair, lightened by the sun, somewhere between wet and dry. He stands a little apart but flashes an easy grin as others approach and speak to him. It distracts her from her start and she entirely misses the gun, sheepishly apologizes to the coach.

Pat and Gale exchange a knowing glance. "That's almost eerie," says Gale. "It's like she heard us talking."

"Maybe it's true, what they say," offers Pat.

"Hmmm?"

"About girls and their fathers. He's a spitting image of Scott when he was in High School. Does he qualify otherwise?"

"Fascinating." Gale arches a Spockish eyebrow. "I'd say so. He's a quiet one. I don't know his GPA, but when he does talk the words form sentences. We can't ask too much, really."

Pat nods silently, studying the boy from afar. I do see the resemblance and feel strangely flattered.

"Now what?" asks Gale, bemused.

"Introduce us," answers my wife.

"Introduce him to Grace?"

"No, silly. To me."

"Oh?"

"You can't think I'm going to let my daughter be with a boy that I don't know."

"I see. And by _know_ you mean..."

Pat's gaze is fixed on the lad. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

The ladies exchange conspiratorial whispers. My face shows my helplessness. Gale laughs out loud. "God, I love your family," she says.

Gale returns to the pool. Pat moves to sit close by my side, her head on my shoulder.

**************************

After a time, Gale returns with a knowing nod.

Pat kisses my ear. "I'll be back," she says. Unlike Arnold she offers a promise, not a threat. I watch my wife slip into the Family Changing Room.

Gale plops down beside me.

"Just like that?" I ask.

"Oh. Nothing so explicit. I told him I left a new suit for him to try on in there. He's not expecting company. She'll have forgotten to lock the door, I expect. The rest is up to her."

"Wow." It's the best I can muster.

"She's used to getting her way."

"Yes."

"But you don't mind. You appreciate her, in that way." She states it as a fact.

"I guess. More so, lately." I'm a little surprised at myself for admitting this.

"I think you always have. You just understand it better now. And she loves you madly. It's so sweet."

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome."

Grace pads over, towel over her shoulders, shivering, her knees weak from a different exertion. "Hi Daddy! I'm soooo exhausted."

Gale stands, briskly rubs Grace down. "We have some time, kitten. Let's get a shower, you and I."

My daughter. Her coach. My wife. A boy. It's impossible to imagine, yet I can imagine nothing else for the eternity of my wait on the hard bleacher seat.

**************************

My wife and daughter sport healthy glows on the ride home. The conversation is prosaic. Another meet coming up. Grace wants to notch her first win. Homework comes first. Maybe we hit the beach on the weekend. Should we pick up dinner?

Grace retires to her room. Pat makes coffee. She doesn't have to ask if I want it. We sit at the kitchen table. The silence is actually comfortable, despite the giant pachyderm poised en pointe on the apex of the sugar bowl.

She wants to tell me. She wants me to want to hear.

I relent. "So." It's enough.

"Oh." She pretends surprise that I'd ask, as though the answer is obvious. "He'll do, Scott. He'll... most definitely do."

I could let it rest there. I couldn't let it rest there.

"H-how so?"

She takes a breath as her lips curl, her glow refreshed. I hear her sandal clatter on the floor and the pressure of her bare foot on my groin. I make my best attempt to remain nonchalant.

"He was abashed, finding me there. So charmingly shy. I was shirtless. Made a show of covering up. He turned to go, flush with apologies. I demurred, said I was the squatter, he should stay. He managed to look at me. I dropped my towel and smiled. 'I'm Grace's mom. You probably haven't noticed her. She's younger than you,' I said. I thought his eyes would leap from his head. He stammered. 'Oh. Grace. Ya. She swims fast.' 'She be very happy to know that you think so,' I said. I didn't cover up. 'Ya?' he said. 'For sure,' I said. 'I see her watching you.' I don't think it had occurred to him to think about her that way. His face was a lovely crimson."

Pat's toes curl and press deeply into my scrotum, just at the edge of pain. She went on.

"I said, 'I've been watching you too, actually. Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.' I could see he was stiffening, the outline very clear in his tight suit. 'It's terrible of me, I know. It's wrong to tease.' 'It's... okay...' he managed. 'Is it?' I said. 'I'm so glad. I wouldn't want to leave you in a bad state. I mean, if you go back out... like that... then people may talk.' He looked down, his condition obvious. 'Oh God... I'm sorry... I can't help it...' So delightful. 'What's your name?' I asked. 'Luis,' he said. 'Luis,' I said, 'you're a lovely boy. Why don't you come closer? It's okay, I promise.'"

Pat pauses. Her foot slides sideways and crushes my erection against my thigh. I suppress a whimper. Sip my coffee, hand atremble.

"T-then what happened?"

She allows herself a gloat, savoring how deeply I'm hooked. "He took a tiny step in my direction. I beckoned. We were past words by then. Soon enough he was standing between my knees, the smooth taut fabric of his suit under my fingers. I traced the perfect form of him and studied his face, his eyes of brown, as he gave himself over to the feelings. Pleading, not arrogant. It wasn't his first time, I'm quite sure. Such a handsome boy, it wouldn't be."

The ball of her foot digs in, persistent. "Elegant. Delicious. Urgent. Skin translucent, stretched so taut. Smooth as marble. He didn't last. At the end he made to withdraw. So polite, this one. I held him fast by his perfect rump, devoured his sweetness and salt, lingered with my tongue until he was soft and empty."

"Nnnnnnnggggggghhhhh." Under inexorable pressure from her heel, I cum in my pants. Pat's smirk is gentle.

After a time I regain my voice. "So... he's the one?"

"We'll know he is if he doesn't tell his friends. He promised me. Such an earnest boy. Gale will keep her ears open."

"But... for Grace? His..."

"Oh. Yes. His lovely cock. Just right for her, I think. Not intimidating, or dangerous. She's still small, after all."

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	9. Vicarious - Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Nine

"A movie? That's... quaint. Given the circumstances." Pat has my full attention as she reveals her latest plan for our daughter and her prospective boyfriend.

"You said it shouldn't be just sex. You were right. I do listen to you, you know."

I bask in this for a moment. "You'll stay with them?"

"Certainly. A chaperoned date. All very proper."

"And if..."

"Things won't go there yet, sweetheart. Just a date. But I'll be sure the boy understands that everything will be chaperoned."

"Everything." I swallow at the thought. "He'll be okay with that?"

"I'll explain it to him with his cock in my hand. I find boys are quite agreeable in that state."

"I recall a conversation we had about buying this house."

"It was a good decision, wasn't it?"

"In retrospect. But I was convinced under duress."

She leans in to kiss my forehead. "My poor hubby. I did keep you on edge for a few days, didn't I?"

"It was eight days. I remember it very clearly. You teased me mercilessly."

"I could tell you were enjoying it. You kept saying no just to prolong the agony. And when you finally said yes..."

I sigh. She knows me better than I know myself. "I remember."

"I remember too. The back of my head was sore for days from banging against the wall. You fucked me mercilessly. I loved it."

I squeeze her hand. "We're quite the pair."

Her smile is gentle and knowing. "We are. Not just a pair anymore though."

Boundaries are vague notions these days. I'm enthralled by my terror.

**************************

"He held her hand at the movie. She walked with him to his door. They kissed for a good ten seconds. He coped a very subtle feel of her butt. It was the sweetest thing ever."

"That's... nice. Grace had fun?"

"She's agog. Still unsure of herself, and why this older boy would be interested."

"Does she know that you..."

"Yes. We talked about it."

"Awkward?"

"Some. I'm protecting her with Luis like you're protecting her with Brad."

"She's not jealous?"

"Not so far. We have to be careful about that. It's less of an issue with Brad and Luis. But we need to stay strictly in bounds with Gale. Grace wouldn't be okay with that at all."

"Gale? What would happen with Gale?"

"Oh. I'd fuck her in an instant. Or she'd fuck me. Either way. Both ways. She's insanely attractive. You haven't noticed?"

"Mostly I notice how she is with Grace."

"Me too. That's part of it. I think about them, together."

"M-me too." My cheeks are schoolboy hot.

"Mmm. Yes. Well." She clears her throat. "Strip naked and lick my cunt, Scott."

"If you insist."

"I do. I do insist."

**************************

Back from the pool with Grace, my wife places her phone in front of me on the kitchen table. Kisses the top of my head with a meaningful glance. I stare at the phone as she heads upstairs.

I'm able to restrain myself for about thirty seconds before I pick up the device and poke at the Photos icon. The most recent entry is a video, the frozen first frame a jumbled extreme close-up of something impossible to identify. Butterflies assault my innards as my thumb fumbles for the damned tiny triangle.

The image jostles about and finally resolves to a view from the bench. Pat's shoulder from below and behind. She's seated. I hear her whisper. "I don't think he'll notice the phone." In a moment the sound of a door opening. The torso and hips of a boy in black lycra enter the frame. Luis, headless from this angle.

Her hand immediately seeks and finds the taut front of his suit. "Mmmm. Hard already. You were thinking about me." A quiet grunt from the lad. "Or were you thinking about Grace? I saw you flirting with her." She gropes him, slides her palm over the obvious outline of his stiffness. "Poor boy. This is confusing for you, I expect."

She looks up from her seat on the bench. Her hand is slow and relentless as she continues, her voice like wet silk.

"You see, we're close as a family. It's not so unusual, really. And you... well... you'll be Grace's first lover." She lets this land, her permission to fuck our daughter. "That's a very special thing. I want to make sure that Grace's experience is... the best it can be. We like you very much, Luis. She'll remember you forever, whatever else happens in her life. It should be a lovely memory, not some awkward clutching in the back of a car. That means you have a responsibility. You can see that, I hope. A smart boy like you."

"I... guess so." His words ride on short gasps of breath.

"No guessing. If you want this, you'll listen. You'll go with the flow. You'll let things happen. It'll be good, I promise."

"O-okay."

"You do want her, don't you? Grace. You want to fuck her."

"Ya. God. Ya."

"But you like her too. I can see that."

"Ya. A lot. She's... smart."

Pat smiles. "That's such a nice thing to say."

"I mean... pretty too. But ya... smart."

"Pretty. Yes. But is she hot, Luis? Do you like her tight little ass in her racing suit? I see you look at it."

"God. Ya."

"That's it. No need to be shy." She tugs at his waistband, frees his smooth rampant boyhood, nudges it with her nose.

"Mmmm. So nice. So urgent." She grips and pulls. The boy leaks and my wife laps at the clear drops. "And sweet." Her eyes close for a long moment, savoring. "Have you ever licked a girl, Luis? You know what I mean. Be honest."

"Y-yes."

"I'm not surprised. I'm sure you've had your pick. Such a handsome boy. Why don't you show me?"

"Show... you?"

"Yes, Luis. Lick my cunt. Let me feel your tongue."

Pat folds a towel neatly in quarters and drops it at her feet, then slides her lips over the boy's quivering erection. Just once, tip to base and back. "I'll finish this when you're done. Now make me cum, sweet child."

Her fingers tangle in his hair. She's patient with him, soft sounds of direction and encouragement. Her face softens. "Ummm. There. Just there. That. Mmmmm. Again. Do that. Again. Keep... doing... that." She rewards him with a deep stifled moan, her butt arcing up from the bench.

She cradles his head in her lap for time, comforting like a mother. "Just lovely. Sweet, sweet boy. Up you stand now."

He's still stiff as a ruler. Pat engulfs him and he whimpers. She pauses with an impish grin. "We'll give Grace her first time together, you and I. How about that?"

"She... she knows?"

"Of course she knows. We tell each other everything. We wanted to be sure, about you." She strokes him three more times with the ring of her lips and stops again, her fingers tight around his sac. "If you want her, you'll say yes."

"Y-yes... God... Please... Just..."

"Such manners. Just... lovely..."

She doesn't stop again. His fingers in her hair. A guttural animal grunt as he pushes deep. Her throat works, distended from inside. His body quakes, muscles crawl like snakes under the black fabric.

**************************

My knees are weak as I climb the stairs. Our bedroom is empty. I continue down the hall to Grace's room. My wife and my daughter are on her bed, spooned back to front. Grace is naked on the bottom. Pat's hand is there, between her legs, moving slowly. As it pulls back, I see the pale sheen of the vibrator. Grace's eyes are closed. I strain to hear the whispers.

"...just this size... it's so pretty... wants you... loves your ass... felt you up, when you kissed..."

Pat sees me in the doorway. I move to withdraw, feeling the voyeur, abashed at my intrusion on such an intimate moment. She shakes her head with a familiar expression. _You're being silly,_ it says. She means for me to stay.

Grace spreads... trembles... arches... coos softly. Her mother's thumb circles at the apex of my child's bare cleft, tiny petals splayed by the humming fullness inside. She gasps... stiffens... squeaks... hips buck twice... then again. And calms, limp in her mother's arms. Pat kisses her hair and Grace stretches like a kitten. Opens her eyes slowly, a sleepy smile, a tiny show of surprise.

"Hi, Daddy."

No shame, in my daughter. No move to cover herself even as the pale pink perfection of her bare quim remembers the shape of her proxy lover. So far in my life, hers are the two most erotic words I've ever heard.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	10. Vicarious - Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

### Vicarious - Chapter Ten

"We have such nice talks, Grace." Brad stands over my naked daughter, her pale slender legs spread obscenely in the stirrups. His tone is casual, two of his fingers buried deep inside her, working methodically. His other hand strokes her hair, cups her cheek. Her eyes are unfocused, but she manages a nod. "I appreciate your openness with me. It helps me to be sure we're on track with your treatment. And it's good for you to express yourself, to say what you want. What you need. Gale and I are very proud of you."

"T-Thanks..." Her bottom squirms needfully.

"It's important for us to be honest with each other, isn't it?"

"Ya."

His thumb brushes her lips and they part. He presses inside, circling her tongue.

"You know you make me incredibly horny, don't you princess?"

"Mmmmuuuhhh." Her voice is muffled, her mouth occupied, her cheeks aglow.

"Suck on my thumb. Like a baby. You don't need to talk."

Her lips close around his thick digit and he smiles gently. "That's my girl. I just want you to know what you do to me. You're a very special person." His other thumb slides along her tiny inner petals, already parted between her perpendicular thighs.

"Did you like watching your mother suck my cock, Grace?"

My daughter's eyes meet mine. A moment of concern passes over her face. Does she think I didn't know? For some reason, my response to the absurdity of the situation is to chuckle softly.

"Oh. Your Daddy knows, kitten. We've talked about it. He understands why such a thing is... appropriate. Don't you, Scott?"

My eyebrows arch. "Appropriate?" An odd word, from this man.

"Sure. Given my restraint with Grace. My patience. It's only fair that I get some attention. Don't you agree?"

"I'm not sure what 'fair' means in these circumstances."

"C'mon Scott. I'm trying to be fair to you. Grace knows how her mother was willing to help me out. Shouldn't she also know that her father is in her corner that way? I think you should tell her."

Grace whimpers, her cheeks working as she suckles. I know her responses by now. She's building to an orgasm, her second of the session. Brad senses this too and slows his attack on her stiffened nub.

"I don't think that's... appropriate."

Brad offers me an indulgent grin. "I understand. You'd rather keep your support private. Such a humble, loving father. You support her because she's your daughter, and don't need any praise or recognition. Just knowing you've helped is enough for you."

"Yes. Private. Don't need any..." I can tell that I sound desperate. Brad is not dissuaded.

"That's lovely, Scott. Moving, really. But you deserve better. You deserve for your acts on her behalf to be fully appreciated."

Despite her intense arousal, Grace seems to be following the conversation, but her expression is confused.

Brad bends to kiss her forehead. "You see, sweetheart, your father's also been taking care of my needs. When he's stayed behind here in the office after your sessions... well... he's been blowing me. Quite effectively, I must say."

Grace opens her mouth, pushes Brad's hand away from her face. Finds me with her eyes. I look at the door, wonder if dashing out and never coming back is an option. Grace's voice chains me to my chair.

"Daddy. Is that... did you?"

Denial seems impossible. Admission seems inconceivable. This irreconcilable confluence forces me to offer nothing but a sheepish shrug. Grace blinks. Brad uses this to spin his twisted narrative to the next level.

"So unassuming, Scott. You should take credit. Grace, your father cares about you so much, he's willing to do anything to keep you safe. Anything at all. Isn't that amazing?"

"Does mommy know?" my daughter asks, concern in her voice. I must admit that I'm relieved by this question. Her main worry is whether this is a problem between her parents, not that her father is a cocksucker. I can safely appear offended. "Of course, Grace. We tell each other everything."

I realize that I've just confirmed Brad's assertion. Grace appears thoughtful. After a moment, she asks, "Do you... like it?"

I flash back to the conversation Grace had with her mother after watching Pat give Brad his due relief. I wish I could interpret her inquiry as 'Is Brad making you do something you don't want to do?' But I don't sense that. I think she's asking 'Is it enjoyable to suck on a man's penis?' I know she's been pondering this. I've been thinking about it too, about Grace giving blowjobs. I've been thinking about it more than I care to admit.

Brad watches me with amusement. I try to stare back daggers. I can summon only the rubber kind that bounce off harmlessly.

"I like... keeping you safe, sweetheart."

Brad chuckles. "So noble, Scott. But I can say with some confidence that the way you suck me off shows more than just your heartfelt concern for your daughter. It shows enthusiasm." He smooths Grace's furrowed brow. "Grace. Your family is perfect. So open and loving and caring. Many men enjoy doing what your father does. It doesn't mean anything other than the pleasure it brings. I can understand that it's hard for him to talk about. He wasn't sure you'd understand. But you do, don't you? You should be proud of your Daddy for taking care of you, and for being honest about it."

I think Grace will believe anything Brad tells her. This is frightening, given his intent. Even more frightening is that I'm starting to believe him too. Or perhaps I'm just willing to suspend disbelief, given his intent.

Grace turns to me, her face still full of questions. "So... you like it?" I admire her persistence.

I dig deep for some shred of rationality. "Just like we tell you, Grace. Never do anything that you don't want to do. Make your own choices."

Brad regards me with mild surprise. "Well said, Scott. Grace, you've decided on everything we do, haven't you?"

She doesn't hesitate. "Ya," she says. I wonder how true this really is, but she clearly believes it.

"It's the same with your mother. And you father. Isn't that right, Scott?"

I've boxed myself in. "Yes. That's... correct." I can't bring myself to say it's right.

"Great. Now we don't have to hide anymore. We don't have to send Grace to sit by herself in the car, anxious that we're talking about her."

"Oh." Fuck. Of course he went there. And he's right. I remember Grace's worry on our rides home.

He glances at his watch. "Our time's about up. How about it?"

I swallow. "You mean..."

"I'm hard as a maypole, Scott. Your daughter does that to me. It's only natural, how beautiful she is. How she cums for me, on my fingers. On my tongue."

I notice that his shorts are at his knees. I look to Grace. Her stare is fixed on Brad. On Brad's rampant erection. Her hand slides down her tummy. Her urgent mewling floods my brain as Brad floods my mouth.

**************************

Grace takes my hand and holds it as we walk to the car. I'm unable to find any words.

"Daddy." She looks up at me. I'm trying not to cry. I haven't released my shame, even now.

"Daddy." I stop and blink, struggle to meet her eyes. "Thanks," she says. "For keeping me safe."

My brain opts for the automatic response. "You're welcome."

"I mean... It's kinda scary. With Brad. I know what he wants. I think I want it too. But it's scary. Not just because he's... big, but because... the feelings are big. Too big sometimes. Not the sex part, that's just... amazing... but how I love him and how I might just let him do anything... but that would be... scary. So... thanks."

We get in the car, my mind a maelstrom. She's preternaturally calm. I dread the questions that I sense are coming.

"So every time I had to wait in the car you were doing that?"

"Not every time." But more than once. I've just made that clear.

"At the end. Do you... does he always... finish? In your mouth."

"Grace..."

"Cuz if that's how you're supposed to do it... I just dunno about that part."

"You shouldn't do it unless you want to, sweetheart."

"What if I want to do it because I want to make him happy but I don't want to do it cuz it tastes nasty?"

"Who's 'him' in this case?" I want to imagine it. I can't imagine it.

"I dunno. Any him."

"I suppose you should talk about it. He shouldn't make you. You shouldn't feel like you have to."

"Talk about it? Awks."

"We're talking about it right now."

"Ya, but you're my Daddy. It's different."

"I suppose it is. But still. You can get used to talking about it."

"Okay."

I'm happy to leave things there, but more words tumble out of somewhere deep inside. "You can also get used to how it tastes."

She chews her lip. "That's what Mom says too. But that the best part is how they look at you."

I take brief pride in the consistency of our parenting. "I think she's right about that, sweetpea."

"You like how Brad looks at you?"

"Mostly I have my eyes closed." I'm getting used to talking about it.

"Then don't you miss the best part?"

I'm forced to consider this. "Maybe so, pumpkin. Maybe so."

**************************

Luis is at our dining room table, sitting between my wife and my daughter. I'm at the head in the traditional Dad seat. Perhaps this conveys authority, but I'm keenly aware that tonight is not at all in my control.

Swimming talk prevails. I'm impressed with the boy, with his confidence and maturity. He's just turned 14, but his eyes are quiet and his voice is steady. He smiles easily and it warms the room. A natural charmer, but somehow not cocky. His clothes are loose but my mind makes me see what's under them.

Grace is silent, cheeks red. She studies her plate intently, pokes at her food with her fork.

"It's really good, Missus Stewart."

"Thank you, Luis. And please... Pat. We know each other."

His turn to blush. He glances in Grace's direction and she smiles without looking up.

"Can I help clean up?"

"Oh, how precious. You can teach Grace some manners, I think. Thank you, but no. Scott will take care of things. Why don't we show you Grace's room?"

Direct but not explicit. She doesn't want him to know that I understand what's about to happen. I catch Grace's face as she leads him up the stairs. She's nervous. I'm glad her mother is with her.

I make an audible show of rattling the dishes, thinking that I'd cover sounds I didn't want to hear. Thing is, I did want to hear them. I could only pretend for so long. Soon enough I find myself creeping up the stairs. Grace's door is open, just enough. She's mercifully cruel, my wife. I try not to breathe.

They're all on the bed, sitting. The kids kiss. Pat leans back against Grace's pile of stuffed animals. Button eyes fixed wide. Their innocence is about to be lost.

Luis is tentative. Grace is more urgent. Her hands are at his hips, then at the front, groping. The boy is emboldened. He stands and pulls off his shirt, lets it drop to the floor. Grace watches in awe. Pat nudges her. She chews her lip and reaches for his belt. Apparently my wife has a script that she's directing from the set. Soon his pants are around his ankles. His shoes come off with them and they stay in a heap. His boxers are loose, and full. He's very ready.

Grace seems frozen. The boy prompts her. "Are you gonna..." He's undressing my daughter with his eyes and she responds, stands and shucks her dress. She never wears a dress. For tonight, it's the right choice because it's easier to take off. White underpants, taut against her. He makes to kiss her but she sits. With a sideways glance at her mother, Grace yanks down his boxers. Teeth at her lip, she takes him into her small hand.

The hand that I've held since she was tiny. The hand that I held yesterday, on the way home from Brad.

Luis looks to Pat. Pat points him back to Grace with her chin. Grace looks to her mother. Pat just smiles. Grace swallows. Leans in. Kisses the tip of the boy's penis.

"Oh God. You don't have to..." Considerate lad.

"I want to," says my daughter. She takes him with her lips, just the head, watching for his reaction. I can't see his face, but from her grin she's not disappointed. She moves a little, unsure. Pat touches the top of her head, guides her gently. A slow steady rhythm develops. His hips move, his bottom tight as steel. A low grunt. Grace's head snaps back, brow furrowed. Pat moves in and has him engulfed in her mouth before the second spurt can erupt.

"God. Shit. Sorry... I..."

Grace wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, tongue runs over her teeth, face scrunched. Pat is still draining him.

"It's... okay," says my daughter. "I wanted to... I just didn't know when..."

Grace's expression morphs as she understands what happened. "Was that... I mean... is that..."

Pat releases the boy. "It was, but it's not." I'm not following. Grace also appears lost. Pat explains. "You made him cum, sweetheart. But that's not all. Boys just need a little time to recover. Let's get comfy."

Pat guides Grace into her lap, small head nestled in the curve of her mother's hip. "You too son." She pats her other hip. Luis moves to take position on his side. He and Grace look into each other's eyes over my wife's tummy. "Now you can get properly acquainted," says my wife.

Grace squirms into kissing distance and whispers. "Was it... okay?"

He kisses her thoroughly, fingers behind her ears. Whispers back. "I never did it so fast. Like, ever."

"Is that good?"

"Ummm. Ya. You're so..." Luis trembles. His hands move to the subtle swell of her chest, the nipples now pointedly prominent. Grace gasps as he presses into them, an eager grope. It's as though something lets loose inside the boy. "You're so fucking hot. Your body's perfect. I want to fuck you so bad."

Grace drinks in his passion and blooms with her own. "I want you too. I want it... in me."

"Slow down, little ones. First things first. What should a polite boy do now, Luis?"

My daughter giggles. Luis shifts. Kisses Grace again, long and deep.

"Yes, kisses. Kisses all the way down. Be a good boy."

"Mom. Shut up."

"Sorry, kitten. This isn't going to be a quickie. You'll thank me later."

Luis shifts again, his head at Grace's chest. He takes a distended nipple between his lips. Grace captures his head in her hands and holds him there, her breath coming short. The boy isn't patient and neither is she, so she releases him as he makes to move lower. A kiss just above the navel, then at the waistband of her underpants. He reaches for them but she beats him to it, pushing them over her hips and wriggling them down her legs and off one foot. She raises her knee and spreads. Pat turns her onto her back. "Easier this way, sweetpea." Grace doesn't resist.

Luis appears to remember some of his training. I watch my daughter's face as he laps at her. She's not in a daze of the sort Brad induces. Her eyes are bright and focused, completely in the moment. Pat strokes her hair. To his credit, the lad stays at it for a good five minutes. Grace's hips arch up and she pants, clearly on edge and now frustrated. He'll need more practice.

My wife is keenly attuned to our child. "Okay," says Pat. "Now."

Luis slides his body over the top of my daughter. His erection is back in force.

"Look into her eyes, Luis. There's never another first time. Do you love her?"

"God. Yes."

"Say it."

"I love you, Grace. God. I want you."

"I... love you too." Grace means this in the moment, I'm sure. This has become more than a means to an end for her.

"It's... I never... It's my first time too. For this." Sweet boy. So honest.

Grace hugs his neck, buries her face in it. "Do it. Fuck. Do it now."

He reaches down to guide himself. I see the sheen on her bare quim, his wetness and hers in a slick soup. His hips moves slowly, pressing in a centimeter at a time. Her mons swells as it's filled. He pulls back... grunts... she whimpers... he presses again, deeper this time.

"Fuck. It's... God..."

"Do it. All the way." My horny daughter. I let those words live together in my mind.

With the next thrust he's in her to the root. My baby girl. Pat kisses her head, reaches down to hold her hands, admonishes gently. "Slowly now. Something to remember."

He moves awkwardly at first but soon gains confidence and pace. Grace moves with him, clutching her mother's hands, eyes alternately closed and wide as new sensations surprise her. As his frenzy rises, Grace pulls a hand free and wedges it between herself and the boy, digging at the top of her cleft. With a shudder she moans, tiny body in rigor joyous.

The boy doesn't survive this. He pushes deep and stays, legs atremble. Pulls back and thrusts again, grinding his pubis against hers. Grace grabs at his ass and holds him there, he buried, she impaled, both breathless. They hold this pose for a long moment before he collapses atop her, arms and legs tangled.

The young lovers' eyes shut in bliss, Pat looks to the door and blows me a kiss. Of course she knew. I tiptoe to our room. Soon I hear Grace's door close. Pat will leave the afterglow to the children.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	11. Vicarious - Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Eleven

"Are we awful?"

Pat's head rests on my chest. It's not an unreasonable question. It's nice to know that my wife is maintaining a sense of reason, keeping us grounded. I consider the issue as objectively as I can.

"Is Grace happy?" I ask.

"She says she is. She seems to be. Happier than ever."

"Did we make her do anything she didn't want to do?"

"No. She's been taking the lead, really."

"Is anyone being hurt?"

"I don't think so. Seems everyone's getting what they want."

"Well then."

"Well then. I guess we're okay."

"I think so too. I thought it was... beautiful."

Pat gropes between my legs and chuckles. "Beautiful."

I pretend offense. "Why yes. What else would it be?"

"The hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. The boy's elegant cock in our baby's mouth. Pushing into her tight little cunt. Her face when she cums with him buried deep inside."

"Errr. Well. There's that."

Her head slips down to my tummy, her hand busy. My groan comes from my toes.

"Say her name."

"Sorry?"

"Say it. Say her name."

"Grace?"

"Yes. Say it. Tell me."

"Grace."

"Yes. Again."

"Grace?"

"Yes, Daddy?"

Fuck. I can't hide from her. Not anything.

"Grace," I pant. Pat yanks at me, hard enough to hurt. "Nnnnnnhhhhh." I feel barriers crash in my brain. Obscenity spews from my mouth. "Suck my cock, princess. Suck it for Daddy."

"Yes, Daddy."

In the wet warmth I cum in seconds. Pat is relentless, refuses to release me, mauls me in her mouth until I'm hard again. Rolls to her back and grabs her knees. "Fuck me like a teenager. Like it's our first time."

I've forgotten who I am. We rut like animals, oblivious to the children next door.

**************************

Friday at the pool, things have changed. There's palpable tension between Pat and Gale. Still they sit together, watching Grace swim laps. Paired as though held together with some psychic glue, but stuck at an odd angle, out-of-kilter.

"I guess I thought you'd be happy for her," Pat offers.

"I'm overjoyed. In absolute fucking heaven."

"But... you knew. You helped. You sent her to Brad."

"Of course I did. I see what she wants. I always see what they want."

"They."

"I lose them all. To a boy. Or a man. Or a girl their age. All of them. They all leave."

"Perhaps because they're children, Gale."

I don't think Pat means this as an attack. She's not that way. It's an attempt at empathy. Children grow up. Gale's eyes narrow.

"I know what I am. I'm like you. I take what I want."

"But you love her. You're not just a taker."

Gale's eyes shine wet. "I love them all. To my core. Then they fucking leave."

"She hasn't left. She's in love with you too. Luis, Brad... she doesn't feel the same way about them. I can tell."

"For now."

Pat lays her hand on Gale's. Gale allows it, staring into the distance.

"You need to take her to the doctor," says Gale.

"Soon. I know."

"Now. She's on the verge."

"I haven't seen any... I mean, she's still bare as a baby."

"That's because I shave her." There's an edge to Gale's voice.

Pat blinks. I think she's shocked that Grace shares this intimacy with Gale and not with her.

"You know," Gale continues, "for swimming. But I do the rest too. She's been fuzzy for the last month."

"I see. I'll... take her."

Gale face softens. She squeezes Pat's hand. "We take care of our girl, don't we?"

Pats accepts the collective pronoun. "We try. It's all we can do." The tension seems to ease.

I've never known Gale to plead, but I hear it in her voice. "Let me have her. For the weekend, at my house. The whole weekend. Before she... moves on."

Pat casts a glance my way. She knows it's her decision, but she does me the courtesy. I lift my shoulders, acknowledging the obvious. Her eyes find Grace in the pool, watch her for a long moment before responding. She's calm, almost casual. "Do you have a webcam?" asks my wife.

**************************

Gale spends a few minutes with Grace at the edge of the pool, toweling her down, in coaching posture. Grace listens intently, nods occasionally. Her intensity about her swimming has only increased, despite her distractions. I admire her commitment and focus.

Gale touches Grace's wet hair. I see my daughter's face brighten. I can read her lips from the distance. "Really?" she says. She looks our way. Pat smiles and waves. Gale leads her back to us, strong adult arm around strong young shoulders.

"Can I?" she says, eyes wide.

"Do you want to?" Pat wants her to be sure.

"Course I do. Please?"

"Okay then," says Pat. "Til Sunday afternoon. We have a busy day on Monday."

"Awe. Some." Grace bounces on her toes and turns her glowing face to Gale. "I just need to get some clothes from home."

"Oh. No need for that," offers Gale. The implication is clear to the grownups, but Grace appears to miss it. There's still some innocence in my little girl. Gale catches herself immediately. "I... can throw what you wore today in the wash."

"Sweet. So I can just go home with you?"

"Sure. I'll bring you home on Sunday." Home and home. Home is where the heart is.

Gale and Grace head for the Family Changing Room, deep in whispers. Pat takes my hand as we watch them.

**************************

It's odd, Pat and I huddled at the computer. We're both a little tentative, the lingering shame of the voyeur. But we're keeping her safe. This thought is our permission. Our excuse.

Gale's face in extreme close-up. She whispers. "Do we tell her?"

Pat and I react together. "No," I say. This obvious to me. Pat's "Yes" is simultaneous. Our eyes meet.

"No secrets, Scott. She trusts us. Let's not fuck that up."

She's right, as usual. I realize that my answer had more to do with the risk that Grace would ask for the camera to be turned off than with any concern for her feelings. I relent. "Okay then. Tell her."

Gale recedes. A few minutes later, Grace's rosy cheeks. "Hi Mom. Hi Dad." She seems mildly embarrassed. "Nanny cam? Really?"

"Hey sweetheart." Pat takes the lead. "We want you to have a good time and... be safe."

Grace rolls her eyes indulgently. "Ummm. Ya. So. I heard you. After Luis and me. So. Ya."

"Oh. I guess you would have. Sorry."

"No, it's okay. Just, you don't have to pretend it's all about me being safe."

"That's what we want, sweetheart."

"I know. But you like to watch. I'm not stupid. It's okay. Weird, but... I kinda like it."

"Oh." Pat's rarely at a loss for words.

"It's cool how you and Dad are hot for each other. So... you guys have fun and be safe."

"Very funny."

Grace shrugs. Gale's hands appear around her waist. "Let's get these clothes in the wash, little one."

Grace giggles. She still sounds like an eight-year-old when she laughs. "Right. Like I'm gonna wear them again this weekend."

Gale slaps her butt. "You are too smart for your own good, young lady."

Pat closes the lens on our camera, leaving Gale's feed open. It shows the woman's bedroom, simple and tidy. Gale has our daughter naked, clothes in a pile, already forgotten. Grace stands on tiptoes as they kiss, Gale still fully dressed. Adult hands on her bottom, the girl is lifted, wraps her coltish legs around Gale's waist and is carried through a door into the next room. We hear water running. The bathroom. "Long hot bath, kitten," we hear, muffled.

Pat leans back. "We should eat," she says. Always the practical one. The thought hadn't occurred to me at all. She stands and turns toward the kitchen, then pauses. Comes back to the computer. Presses the red button. "Recording" says the app. I do love her so.

**************************

Sharing this perversion with my wife has a delicious obscenity. We resist the temptation to watch every second. We can always rewind, anyway. Gale and Grace do get dressed and leave the house for dinner. Pat and I are in bed when we hear the sounds of their return. My wife seems oddly anxious. I want to interpret this as arousal.

"Now we'll actually wash the clothes," says Gale.

"Okay," comes the reply. We move to the computer in time to see our girl and her lover strip, watching each other as we watch them.

"I want you to tell me about it. All about it," says the woman.

"It won't... bug you?"

"Was it good?"

"It was amazing."

"Then no. It would only bug me if it wasn't."

Gale leads Grace to the large bed, pulls back the covers. They clamber in. Gale spoons our daughter from behind, her hands roaming slowly. Grace has the aspect of bliss.

"This is... perfect," says our girl.

"Mmmm. I wish it could last forever." A hint of sadness. Gale knows better.

"Me too." Grace doesn't know better. She just means it, in the moment.

Gale parts Grace's legs from behind and cups her mons. Grace parts her knees, presses her bottom back. Pat grabs my thigh.

"Mom said boys need to... you know... once before, so they don't... you know... too fast."

"Your mother knows boys," says Gale. "You need to use real words." A gentle chide.

"I don't wanna."

"I want you too. Let's practice. Boys need to..."

Grace sighs. "Okayyyyyyyyy. They need to cum."

"There we go. So how did you make him cum?"

"In my mouth."

"You sucked his cock."

"Geez. Ya. I sucked his cock. Mom won't like me talking this way."

"You'd be surprised. I don't think she'll mind, actually."

"It wasn't so bad. I like how he liked it."

"Mmmmm. It's nice to be appreciated. And then?"

"Mom made him... lick me."

"She made him?"

"She told him to. Nicely."

"Was it weird, her being there?"

"Kinda. More for him, really. He was nervous. As soon as she left he wanted to do it again."

Gale snorts. "I can understand that." She kisses Grace's neck and slides a finger into her quim. "You like remembering this. I can tell."

"Ya."

"So. When he fucked you."

"Ya."

"Tell me."

"I guess... I thought it would be like when... you know... there were fingers or whatever in there. But it wasn't. Like... the heat of it... feeling him move..."

"He was on top?"

"Ya. The way he pushed me into the bed and when he went in all the way and his front was on my front..."

"Mmmm. Yes. Pressing against your clit." Gale pinches Grace there, rolls her between her thumb and finger. Grace shivers.

"Ya. I had to... help... but God. His face. I grabbed his butt even. I... came so hard."

Gale's finger is working inside, slow and deep. She nibbles Grace's ear. "You know," says the women, a quiet conspiratorial voice. "I could do that with you."

"Ummm?"

"There's a way."

"For what?"

"For me to fuck you."

"But... you do already..."

"Not just this way. More like how he did."

"I'm confused."

"There's a... device."

"Oh. Mom did that with me."

"I don't think she did what I'm talking about, kitten."

"No?"

"It's something that I wear. That holds the device. In such a way."

Grace blinks. Pat blinks. I blink. "Fuck," says my wife. She's clearly triggered in new way.

"Should we say something?" I venture.

She doesn't answer immediately. Chews her lip. She's uncomfortable with indecision.

"Gale loves her," I say.

"Too much," she answers. "It's... unhealthy."

Apparently there are boundaries after all. Emotional, if not physical. Seems we're in a role reversal. "We've let Grace decide. What would it say if we don't trust her now?"

"I think you really want to watch Gale fuck our daughter."

Deep breath. "I can't deny that. But still."

"She's desperate. She wants to take her away from me."

This may be true. "Children leave the nest, sweetheart."

My response proves unhelpful. "She's eleven years old, Scott. This has been in control until now."

"It has? You gave her permission. You must have known..."

Pat looks down, recognizing her own conflict. "I know. I know. I did. I thought I was okay with Gale. That she was safe. But it's different. With the boy. Even with Brad. It's not the same. _This_ is different. Her... fucking her. Like she owns her."

"Because Gale's a woman."

"Yes. She's not her mother. I am."

"You always will be. Just like I'll always be her father. Not Brad. Me. I don't think it's a zero-sum game."

"Very rational of you. Not everything is fucking rational, Scott."

"True. I rely on you for that, mostly." I squeeze my wife's hand. "Did you run off with your piano teacher?"

"Sorry?"

"You were in love with him. Did you elope and get married someplace that allows child brides?"

"Of course not."

"You went home. To your parents."

"Of course I did."

"Grace will be home on Sunday."

It's a rare tear, from my spouse. "Will she still be ours?"

"She never was, entirely. She's always been her own. That's what we want, isn't it?"

"No."

A word from her heart. She knows her brain doesn't mean it. I smile as gently as I can.

Time hasn't stopped while we've been talking. On the screen, Gale's head is between Grace's legs, active. Grace's fingers tangle in the sheets, her hips twisting. Gale pauses, sensing. She knows her tiny lover's every nuance, so it's unfair when she asks. Grace can give no other answer.

"Should I?"

"Ya."

"You're sure?"

"God. Please."

Gale on her knees. Grace watches rapt as the woman equips herself. Pat stands up, turns aside. I hold her hand. She tries to pull away. I grip her tightly. Grace's whimper forces my wife's eyes back to the scene. Gale's back arched, face triumphant. Grace, astonished. From my seat I take down Pat's pajama bottoms and bury my tongue into her soaking cunt. Her body speaks for her, her fingers twisting in my hair. It hurts. I don't relent.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	12. Vicarious - Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Twelve

Sunday morning, I'm wakened by Pat's cell phone ringing. I stretch and reach for her, find her warm by my side and stirring. I let my eyes stay closed. Her calls are usually about work, even on the weekends.

"Hi, sweetpea. What is it? Are you okay?"

Must be Grace. Odd that she'd call so early. I hear a sniffle but can't make out our daughter's words.

"Oh. Wow... Of course... I'll be right there."

My eyes are now open, wide with concern.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Our baby girl isn't a baby anymore."

"I thought we knew that already."

She gives me the look she saves for when I'm being especially dense. "She got her period, dearest."

"Ah." Various thoughts race through my sleepy brain. "Then we dodged a bullet."

"With Luis. Yes. Thank goodness."

"So she wants to come home. To her mother."

"Yes. And yes, you told me so. Don't gloat. It's unattractive."

"This is me not gloating. Does this... change things?"

She kisses my forehead and gets out of bed, talks as she dresses. "Most girls lose their self-esteem when they hit puberty. She needs our support now more than ever."

"What do we do?"

"Prepare for hormone poisoning."

"Ummm?"

"Irrational rage and insanity. A lot of it directed at me, for no particular reason. I expect you'll get your share."

"Were you like that?"

"Of course. Having lots of sex helped though."

**************************

Grace spends the next two days closeted in her room. Her mother knocks from time to time, eliciting a wide range of responses shouted through the door. "Go away" is the most common. "What?" has similar intent. "Mom?" seems to offer permission to enter.

"How's she doing?" I venture.

"She's fine. It's mild, but she feels ugly. Totally natural. I told her to masturbate a lot. That always helped me."

"Right. Makes sense." My constricted throat adds an overtone to my attempt at a casual response.

Pat hears me. She always does. She touches my hair. "It's okay to think about her masturbating, Scott. It's a lovely thing." She reaches, gropes me, finds what she expects. "And I get the fringe benefits." She arches her back and pushes her shorts down, slides over the top of me and looks down. "Nice and slow, sweetheart. Fuck me for an hour."

I try. She's expert at knowing when to pause. I last a good forty minutes. She cums twice, milking me with her heated spasms, gripping my balls hard when she feels I'm too close. I finally erupt deep inside her. We lay coupled, her weight on my chest. Her nipples poke at me, still erect.

Pat squirms up to whisper in my ear. "What should a polite boy do now?" The words are familiar. My mind flashes back to Luis and Grace. I oblige, our mingled essences bitter and sweet on my tongue. Her smile of utter satisfaction floods my soul with warmth.

**************************

Grace and her mother, back from the doctor. I summon my most sympathetic smile. I'm sure it's embarrassing for our daughter.

Pat answers my unspoken question. "It was fine. Passed inspection, outside and in."

Grace flushes pink. Pat touches her hair, a proud momma.

"That's great." I want in on this iconic parental moment.

Grace shrugs. "But we didn't... get anything."

"Oh?"

Pat sighs. "So. Ya. She's eleven. We decided on the way over that it might be just a little too... odd... to ask at this point."

"Ah. Right. For the best." My spouse, always thinking.

Grace is frustrated. "But... then we can't do it."

Pat pulls her little girl into her lap. "Don't be silly. You'll just have to take other measures."

"Like what?"

"Condoms, sweetpea. Best anyway, really. Stops everything, not just babies."

Furrows gather on Grace's brow. "Weird. Weeeeeiiirrdd. I don't want to tell him to..."

"Calm, little one. We'll take care of it."

"We will?"

"Sure. We'll supply the... product. And you'll put it on him."

"I will?"

"Mmmm. Yes. It's fun, actually."

"That's not possible."

Pat sighs. "We'll practice."

"Huh?"

"Sure." Pat's eyes narrow thoughtfully before seeking mine. A smile slowly takes over her face. A scary sort of smile.

**************************

Later, I speak my mind to my wife. "I'm not sure this is a good idea." I can tell that my tone isn't particularly resolute.

She kisses my cheek. "You're the sweetest, most considerate man ever born. I love you more than warm toast with jam. If I thought it would be a problem, I wouldn't suggest it."

"It feels like crossing a line."

"I suppose it's... approaching a line. Toeing a line, maybe. But my love, I know you. You'll never go too far, no matter how you're tempted. You love that feeling. Seeing, but not having. I understand it. I even feel that way sometimes. Watching Brad with Grace. I get it. I confess. I want to see this."

"Why not just use a banana... or something?"

A patronizing glare. "Where's the fun in that?"

I take a deep breath. She's right of course. Still it's strange, this explicit acknowledgement of my love for the torment of denial. My accession to my wife's desire to feed my depravity, to curate my obsession.

"Oh. And just to state the obvious, Scott. Don't let her make you cum. That would probably be upsetting."

 _Fuck._ In the end, I can deny her nothing.

I feel blood in my cheeks when Grace comes into our bedroom. "Do we actually have to do this?" She looks ready to bolt.

"Do you want to have sex with Luis?"

"Ya. But. I mean. It's not like I can't figure it out. Heard of YouTube, ever?"

"If you do this wrong, it won't work properly. And we don't want to deal with the consequences of that."

Her mother's relentless logic wins out. Pat hands our daughter a shiny silver packet and takes another for herself.

"So. You tear it open, just where it says. Carefully. So you don't tear what's inside. Don't do it with your teeth."

"Why would I do it with my teeth?"

"Nevermind. Just don't." Pat demonstrates.

Grace emulates with a sigh, extracts the flexible ring, makes a face. "It's... slimy."

"It's lubricated." Pat pulls the condom from her packet and pokes one side with a finger. "Key point. The slippery side goes out. It's for you. To make it easier. If you put that side on him, it'll come off."

"Oh." Grace seems to recognize that there might be something to learn from this after all. "Okay. I get it. Are we done?"

"No, kitten. Practice, we said. It makes perfect. Just like swimming."

"This is nothing at all like swimming."

"It's an analogy," I blurt. Or is it a metaphor? Right now my mind wants to get lost in this question.

Pat chuckles at my anxiety. "Drop your pants, Scott."

"Mom..."

"Shush. Your Dad is kind enough to volunteer for this. Be nice."

"Geeeezzzz." Grace covers her eyes with her hands.

I don't remember the last time she's seen me undressed. Too long ago for her to remember, I expect. When exposed, I'm already at half-mast.

Pat grips me and tugs. "This won't help if you don't watch."

Grace spreads her fingers to peek. Pat pedagogues, preternaturally prosaic. "So. Make sure he's all the way stiff. You know how." Grace rolls her eyes behind the mask of her hand. Her gaze wanders to my erection and tarries. I feel the look pierce through me like an icicle falling from a high eave... shivers and heat. I imagine my daughter's mental assessment... smaller than Brad... bigger than Luis... Pat regards me knowingly. "Then you just roll it on, like this... all the way down... all the way to the base... so it'll stay on."

I haven't had a condom on in a while. I've never found them erotic in the least until just this moment.

"Okay. Awesome. Thanks." Grace makes to flee.

"Not so fast, little one. Your turn."

"Mom. No. I can't... it's... Daddy."

"Your father wants to keep you safe, Grace. This is just for practice. I want you to do it."

Pat peels the latex off. I'm ashamed that I leak as she does, and glad that Grace doesn't seem to notice.

"Do I have to?" The words bore deep into my psyche.

Pat starts to answer, but from somewhere I find my voice. "Yes, Grace. It's important. And... I don't mind. It's okay. It's not like we haven't shared some things. Right?"

"Daddy. I know. I... like what you do for me."

Her eyes are on me again. She swallows. I throb. "Then go on. Just to be sure."

I have to close my eyes when her fingers brush against me, tentative, awkward. Her fumbles only increase the keening in my mind. My daughter nudges the taut ring down my shaft. Out of Grace's view, Pat digs her fingernails into the flesh of my arm. The pain saves me, clarifies the moment, even more indelible now.

Pat coaches, watching me intently. "That's it. All the way. Well done."

Grace's hand withdraws. I breathe again. Open my eyes.

"Okay. I got it. I totally totally got it. I promise. Really. I do. Can I go?"

"Which side goes out?"

"Slippery. The slippery side. Pleeeassseeee can I go?"

"Okay."

Grace scampers and thumps down the stairs. Pat slowly withdraws her pinions from my skin. Our daughter safely out of earshot, I'm surprised that I still have my voice.

"See what you've done, Grace? You made Daddy all hard. Now you have to take care of it."

My wife blinks twice. The scary smirk resurfaces. "Do I have to, Daddy?"

"Yes you do. Do it properly. With your mouth."

She bends and takes the tip of the condom in her teeth and yanks at it. It's slick inside from my precum and slides off easily. At the first touch of her lips my body seizes, my throat guttural as a death rattle. She withdraws, eyes closed. I paint her grinning face, a smaller, innocent smile superimposed by my twisted mind.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	13. Vicarious - Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Thirteen

Grace is quiet on our way to see Brad.

"Everything okay, pumpkin?" Being Dad.

"Ya. Just thinking."

"Bout what?"

"How he looks at me." She shifts in the seat. "What... he does."

"Sweetpea. We don't have to go. You can stop anytime."

"I know, Daddy. I want to go. I just think about it... all day... on those days."

"Oh." I don't want her to go on, until she does.

"I think... maybe he's thinking about it too."

Pat's voice is in my head. _Those looks... the hungry stares... they're heroin to a young girl. You'll do anything for them,_ she said. My daughter is an addict. I want to intervene.

"It worries me, Grace. He's... a man." Uselessly obvious.

"I know, Daddy. I'd be worried too... if you weren't there."

Is her confidence in me well-placed? Could I stop him if he tried to go too far? Would I? Do I really have any control?

"What if I didn't stay, Grace? Would you still.... go to him?"

She stares out of the car window. Her answer paints the glass with fog. "Yes."

The mist slowly fades, leaving clarity. I follow her into Brad's office.

**************************

"I took six-tenths off my fifty."

Brad's arm around my daughter. He closes the exam room door behind us, and locks it.

"That's terrific. Hips?"

"They're perfect."

"Good. Keep up the stretching on your own. So..."

"Turns, still."

"Right. More work on your core."

"Ya."

Their words, prosaic. Their eyes, not. Expectations clear, Brad sets up the stirrups. We both watch as Grace undresses. She needs no prompting, no longer hesitates. Brad lifts her onto the table, taking her breath away. Positions her legs. Straps in her ankles.

"Gale tells me there have been other developments." An odd smile.

Grace blinks, confused for a moment. Then, "Oh. That." At this, she blushes.

"It's a milestone," he offers.

"It's weird and gross and I don't want to talk about it."

"It's also important. When you lose blood, you lose some part of your ability to carry oxygen around your body. You also lose calcium, which can weaken your bones. As an athlete, you need to compensate or it'll affect your performance."

"Like it wasn't bad enough. Guys are so lucky."

His expression softens. "Some guys are lucky. Like me." He lays his hand over Grace's bare sex, finds her eyes. "You're beautiful, Grace. You're never gross, even if you feel that way. You're just... beautiful."

She consumes his words. I hate how this man knows exactly what to say to my daughter.

Grace seems assuaged for the moment. "How do I compensate?"

"That's easy. Diet, a supplement with iron. I'll send you some links."

Grace looks down at Brad's hand. It's moving, subtly. She swallows.

Brad's tone assumes an edge. "Other things have changed too, she said." He presses his middle finger into her folds. It sinks easily. Her thoughts, manifest in her body.

"You mean..."

He works his finger. Her eyes close, voice trails off. "So wet for me, Grace. Do you feel different? Now that you've been fucked?"

"I... dunno..."

"Another lucky guy, this Luis. To have you. To fuck you."

Grace mewls, her bottom lifts. Brad withdraws his finger... spreads shiny slick lower, orbits the star of her bottom. She tenses... winces. "Hmm. Still sore here? Gale told me."

My eyebrows arch. I'm not sure what Brad means.

"Y-ya. A little."

"First times. So special. Did you cum, little one? When Gale fucked your ass?" He keeps at her, teases her open, squirms the tip of his finger inside.

 _Fucking Gale._ She's sodomized my little girl.

"Kinda? It's... different..."

"Another flavor. Deeper, less sharp." A whimper as he pushes into her rectum, his thumb nestled at her inner petals, relentless circles. "It's a rare and precious thing, to have those feelings. So many possibilities." His breath comes faster, matching hers. "Open your eyes." She does, they lock onto his face. "Pinch your nipples." She's tentative, goes through the motion. "Harder. Twist and pull." This time she feels it... tiny toes curl, back arches from the table.

He teases her this way for... ever it seems. But maybe it's ten minutes. When she begs for release he plumbs her bottom without mercy but withdraws his thumb. Grace thrashes in the stirrups. Another flavor.

Brad shifts seamlessly back to his professional manner as she calms, probing her internal abdominals.

"Squeeze. Hold. Much stronger now. That's good. Do you feel it?"

Grace nods. "That's my girl. Well done." Brad pats the taut plane of her tummy, unbinds her ankles. "You can get dressed while your Dad blows me." Nonchalant. Entitled. The motherfucker. He approaches my chair.

Grace's voice sneaks from behind his looming figure. "D-Dad?"

"Ummm. Yes?"

"Don't."

"Don't?"

"You don't have to." A pause. Brad turns to look at her, a gleam in his eye. "I-I'll do it," she says.

My heart and brain melt together. This isn't happening. I have to insist.

"Awwww," says Brad. "That's so nice. But your Dad doesn't want that. He wants to protect you."

"I... want to," says my daughter.

I struggle for words of insistence. "Grace... it's okay... I... don't mind."

"Daddy. Please. Let me."

I'm struck dumb. Brad waits, shifts his attention between us. "Well then. How about this. If anybody says stop, I'll stop."

Grace is perched at the edge of the table. Brad gently ushers her to the chair beside mine. She looks up at him, teeth at her lip. He stands, brushes her cheek, speaks in a whisper.

"Go on then. If you're sure."

Grace reaches up... tugs awkwardly at the button of his shorts. He helps, anxious, unzipping and pushing them to his knees. He's fully ready as she takes him into her small hand... tugs... watches his face. He rewards her. Her fix, coursing through her veins. She leans forward. Her lips spread open by the wide head... a taut ring... she struggles until she finds a comfortable depth, locked in just behind the ridge.

Brad does me the mercy of not looking at me. Quiet words, big hands at little ears, never insistent. He's intensely gentle, so different from his usual way. Grace's chin shows the working of her tongue as he guides her, her breath labored in flaring nostrils, eyes wet.

I'm about to find my voice when Brad withdraws, takes himself into his own hand. Grace seems relieved, and a little sad. Brad yanks at his erection.

"It's okay, princess. You did just fine. It gets easier." She stares as he masturbates an inch from her face. "Does your boyfriend cum in your mouth, Grace?"

My daughter looks sheepish. Brad understands. "Open up," he says. "Stick out your tongue."

Grace complies with furrowed brow. Brad lays the head of his cock on the tip of her tongue. With a grunt he coats it in white. Grace recoils, eyes closed tight, her hand to her mouth. Another flavor. I expect it's very different from that of her young beau.

Brad doesn't miss a beat. He turns and pushes his erupting organ at my face. I have no choice but to take him in. Grace blinks and coughs as I drain him.

**************************

In the car on the way home, Grace feels the need to explain. To me, perhaps to herself.

"It was too weird, Daddy. Watching you do that."

"It's... weird... watching you do it, sweetheart."

"I thought you'd like it. Seeing it."

The sadness hasn't left her face. I feel her watch me. _She needs our support now._

"Did you like it? That's what I care about."

"I guess... I like that I did it." A tremor underlies the words.

"You did it for me. You don't have to do things for me, Grace. Most especially that."

"Kinda for you? I mean... I thought about it. A lot. Before."

"Was it what you imagined?" I imagine her, imagining.

"Not really. It's not like with Luis." She hugs her knees. "I guess I thought..." She turns away, cheek on her thighs. "I thought he'd say it, after."

"Say what, Grace?"

I am severely, profoundly stupid.

"That he loves me, Daddy." She's trembling. "Gale loves me. I know. She says it all the time. Especially after. But he..."

I pull the car over, lean over to hug her. Her fetal coil tightens. "I'm so dumb," she sniffs. "Why would he?"

"Why wouldn't he, Grace? Why wouldn't anyone? I think he's just taking from you. From us."

"He makes me feel... God... it's so... I can't even..."

"But that's not everything, is it? What do you want from him, really?"

She wipes her nose on her pants. "First it was being faster. Now... I don't even know."

"Me either." This means more than I meant it to.

**************************

Grace and I pick up Luis on our way to the pool. She joins him in the back seat. I should have a chauffeur's hat.

They talk about the upcoming meet until they don't. I try to keep my eyes on the road. Glance back and she's kissing his neck. Again and her eyes are unfocused, half closed. I know the look. Out of my view, he has his hand in her pants.

When we arrive, Grace starts to leave the car. Luis doesn't move.

"Can't... right now..." he says.

Grace laughs. "Poor Luis."

"Seriously. It's not gonna go away."

"So? You love it when the girls look at your... whatever."

"It's not funny."

"Ya it is."

"Go on. I'll wait."

"You'll be late. Gale will be pissed."

"She's always pissed at me anyways."

"Cuz you're a slacker. Like, coming late."

"Am not."

Grace rolls her eyes, gets back into the car and closes the door. In the rearview, I see her lean over. The boy's eyes get big.

"Geez. Grace. Your Dad..."

"Shut up. Daddy doesn't care."

I hear the zipper, the fumbling, the wet sticky sounds. Luis and I meet in the mirror. I watch his face. He watches mine, confused... until Grace's attention lolls his head back, elicits a bestial moan.

"Fuck. Grace. Fuuuuccckkk."

He stiffens, arches, twitches. A whimper from his lap. Grace's head doesn't reappear until well after the boy is still. She rises with a sour expression, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Okay. Can we go now?" Exasperated.

"Fuck. Grace. I fucking love you. I. Fucking. Love. You."

She purses her lips, suppresses a grin. "You better."

And they're gone, hand in hand, trailing their duffels.

**************************

Pat's away, business as usual. Sunday Night Football distracts me but can't wash out the images that play in my mind whenever I blink. Grace plops down on the couch beside me. She's wearing a long button-up shirt. One of mine. It's not clear that there's anything underneath.

"Boring," she states. Definitive, referring to the game.

"It is. It's a blowout."

"It's boring because it's football, Daddy."

"Right."

"Movie," she declares.

"Hmm. So that's how it is."

"Ya."

"Okay then."

She rummages in our disorganized pile of DVDs. "What's this?"

" _All That Jazz._ Good movie. Lots of dancing. Serious dancing. Sad ending." Grace had a fling with dancing before she found her true love at the pool. True loves, I suppose.

"There's a girl in it." The box has a picture of Erzsebet Foldi.

"Yes. It's about a father and his daughter and... others. He's a choreographer. It's based on the life of Bob Fosse."

She doesn't know who Bob Fosse is, but the rest is enough for her.

"Cool."

She puts it on. I'd forgotten how physical the film is, how it shows dancers as athletes. Grace can relate. She rests her head on my shoulder as we watch.

Foldi plays opposite Roy Scheider's father character, Fosse's proxy. She's twelve and a dancer herself, impatient with her father's self-destructive lifestyle. Still, she adores him.

There's a scene where father and daughter are alone together in the dance studio. She's dressed for dancing, black leotard and white tights. He wants to experiment with dance moves. She wants to ask him why he doesn't get married again. They banter as he moves her... holds her... has her jump into his arms, his hands almost everywhere...

_[[See the scene here.]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQHYpARSOL8) _

This is not intentionally erotic. Or is it? Hard to know, with Fosse. Still, if affects me. To my surprise, it affects Grace too.

Scheider carries Foldi to a car in the rain. She makes a goofy face at him through the window before the car drives off. Grace is restless at my side. She grabs the remote and rewinds to the beginning of the scene.

"Hmmm?" I ask.

"That's... so cool."

"Mmmm."

We watch again. Grace raises her knee. Her hand is on her thigh. I swallow. She touches herself under the shirt. A nipple makes a visible point through the thick fabric.

"Again, Daddy."

I rewind. Grace's hand moves, masked by the long tail of the shirt. I can't breathe. She does, faster. A gentle shiver. Her eyes drift closed and she seems to melt into softness against me.

She doesn't cum, I think. It's been a long week for her. She's just exhausted, seeking comfort. I kiss her hair. Eyelids flutter.

"So sleepy, Daddy." She might be six again.

"So sleep, kitten."

She wraps her arms around my neck. I gather her up and carry her carefully to her room. Not as easy as six. She's asleep by the time the covers reach her chin.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	14. Vicarious - Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Fourteen

The next appointment with Brad approaches. Grace's anxiety makes it clear that we need to have a conversation. Thankfully her mother takes the lead.

"This is hard to understand, I know. You have so many feelings right now. But there are men you fuck, and men you marry."

My daughter casts her eyes my way. Pat smiles. "Your father is the sort you marry." I feign being hurt. My spouse takes up the joke. "And fuck. Of course. You also fuck the man you marry." I prod her with my chin. "A lot. And it's wonderful." I concede appeasement with a nod.

"Anyway. Brad isn't ever going to return your feelings. He's in it for himself. He's just... very good at what he does."

Grace squirms. "He makes me... it's not like... anything... anybody... else."

"I know, kitten. I saw. But he's not going to be happy until he has everything from you. So you have to decide."

I thought we should tell Grace not to go back. Pat was adamant that it be Grace's choice. If we force her, she might obsess on the relationship even more. I had to acknowledge the likely truth.

"I didn't like that he made Daddy do that."

I can't let her make this about me. "He didn't, sweetheart."

"You did it so I didn't have to."

"Not... entirely."

Grace is confused. She looks to her mother. Pat rescues me. "We understand each other, sweetheart. That's what a family is. Understanding, acceptance, support. Whatever we bring to it, we help each other."

Grace's teeth at her lip. "I don't know what to do."

"Then for now, don't do anything. Take a break. Think about it."

"Gale will know."

My concern is written on my face. Pat understands. "She can't decide for you either, sweetpea."

"She loves me. She'll know."

Pat reaches out, tucks Grace's hair behind her ear. "Little one. Precious girl. Take some time. There's no rush."

Our daughter swallows. Entirely too serious for eleven. Finally, "Okay."

Pat hugs her. I touch my daughter's reddened cheek.

**************************

My daughter has enough to deal with. Her teenage lover, her coach, her therapist, a physical and emotional cacophony. On top, the mundane challenges of an eleven-year-old scream at her. The dawn of womanhood, peer pressure at school, ambitions in swimming, emerging aspirations for her future. She doesn't need to worry about her father. The last thing I want to do is add more noise to her life.

I consider this as I stand outside her closed door, frantically yanking at my engorged penis, my ear hungrily straining to take in the sounds from her room. Luis. Fucking her. His grunts. Her whimpers. "Slower," she says. "I can't," he pants. A crescendo of animal need and a denouement, minutes of quiet.

"Did you?" says the boy. My wife has trained him well.

A small voice. "Nuh uh. It's okay. It's... still nice."

"Sorry." He sounds sincere. "Just feels so... I can't..."

She giggles. "You like me. You like my..."

"God. I fucking love your pussy."

"Then give it a kiss." Asking for what she wants. Her mother would be proud.

Rustling. Quiet. Gentle murmurs. A blissful girlish whine. Then the boy, muffled. "Fuck. I'm hard."

"Ya?"

"Ya."

"Okay."

"Ya?"

"Ya but... another... thingy..."

"It's still on."

"You gotta use a different one. Every time."

"Fuck."

"Shhh. I'll do it."

My memory flashes. I suppress a moan, coat her doorknob with my cum. Slink away and return with a wet cloth. Linger only a few minutes to listen.

**************************

The pale latex ring peeks out from amid the tissues in the bathroom wastebasket. Grace made an attempt at discretion, mostly concealing the used condoms beneath the crumpled white. Mostly.

I try to ignore the sight. None of my business, really. So glad she's being safe.

I look in the mirror and I see myself. Somehow it's in my mouth. Her scent, her taste wash through me. I'm ashamed. And I'm erect again, like a fourteen-year-old boy. A boy. That boy, fucking my Grace. Inside her. His seed.

I look again and in the mirror the condom is still in my mouth. Now it's inside-out. The boy. Inside her. His taste, that she tastes. My seed spills into the sink, washes down the drain, takes none of my shame with it.

**************************

An extended trip for Pat. I miss her. She sympathizes.

"Poor boy. You'll just have to take things into your own hands for a bit."

I sigh. "I am."

"Right now?"

"Well, no. But... often."

"Hmmm. Do it for me. Let me see. Tell me what you're thinking about."

I prop up the phone by the bed. A long shot of my body as I shuck my boxers. Her eyes, even remote, spur my blood to move.

"I'm there with you. By your side. Watching."

"Mmmm." Grip. Pull. Drip. Smear. Slick. Stroke.

"Lick your hand."

Clear. Sweet. Subtle. Familiar. Grip. Pull.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You. Always you."

"Bullshit. Fantasies are for what you can't have. Tell me."

Swallow. Shiver. "L-Luis. Was here."

"Yes. Luis. You watched?"

"Listened."

"Mmmm. They fucked. You heard them. The sounds. Grace's sounds."

"Twice."

She chuckles. "Boys. So resilient. He loves her."

"Loves her... pussy. He said."

"Oh. That's so nice. She needs that now, to know that her body is beautiful."

"Found the... condoms..."

"Oh...my... Sweetheart. You just made me wet. Tell me."

"In my... m-mouth..."

"Fuck. We're learning so much about what you need. Tell me all of it."

"Tasted... both..." I want her to know, every obscenity, every shame. I masturbate in the Confessional.

"Yes. Her and him... together... their joyous melange... You sucked his cum..."

"Yessss..." My sibilance brings me to the edge.

Pat knows me. Sharply, "Don't cum, Scott." My name jars me. I make myself pause, hold the moment. "Tell me what you want."

"Unnnnnnggggghhhh. I want... to suck it... from her cunt..." The word is somehow more obscene than the thought.

"There you are. Say the names."

"Nnnnnnggggg... Grace... Luis... I want to suck his cum from Grace's cunt..."

"Nothing hidden. Not ever. Promise me."

"I... do..." Married to this, to nothing hidden.

"Close your eyes. Imagine she's watching you. Our daughter. Standing by your bed."

"Fuck... Uhhhhhhh..."

"Her eyes are wide, rapt, locked on your cock. Her hand slips down her tummy, into her pants."

"Uuuuhhhhhhh... God..."

"Mmmm... do it, Daddy. Let me see it squirt."

Shudders seem to take my body off the bed, red flashes play on my clenched eyelids. I pant... whimper... twitch... open my eyes to see the gentle smile of my wife. Only love and understanding there. She's not ashamed of me.

**************************

On our way to the pool, just Grace and I. It's wonderful how we've raised her to be so completely open, free to ask anything, trusting that she'll get an honest answer. Wonderful, and utterly terrifying.

"Gale tried to explain it to me, but I still don't get it."

"It's... complicated. I don't fully get it either."

"So you like boys too?"

"No. Not in the way that you mean."

"I dunno what I mean. She said maybe you just like... doing that."

"That seems to be true. At times."

"You're not sure?"

"I guess we keep learning about ourselves our whole lives. You're learning... everything... so soon. I'm a slow study."

Quiet for a bit. I know more questions linger.

"You like to watch, she said. I teased you, but I didn't really think... I thought it was like you said, keeping me safe... but she said it makes you... you know..."

"Grace. I don't want you to worry about me. Whatever you decide, whatever you do, as long as it makes you happy. I want to be sure you're safe. You've shown you can make your own choices. I don't need to watch you for that."

"I know, Daddy. But... does it?"

I have no idea what to say. Can she still see me as her father if she knows I'm perving on her?

Grace fills the silence. "Gale says you're safe. That you won't... you don't really want to... with me. You just think about it."

I breathe again. "That's totally true, Grace. I wouldn't. Ever." Too late, I realize that this is also an admission.

A long pause. "I guess I knew," says my daughter.

"You did?"

"Kinda. I mean, the nanny cam thing. But that was Mom I thought."

"It's different, with her?"

"Ya. I told you. She showed me stuff even when I was little. Girl stuff."

"Right. Grace... I don't want you to think that I'm... when I look at you..."

"I don't."

"You're sure?"

"Ya. I like how you look at me. Like... you'll always be there, no matter what."

"That's the truth."

We're in the parking lot. Grace leans over and kisses my cheek.

"Bye Daddy. Love you. Gale can drive me home."

Just like that, she's off into her own world, a place I can only see from outside. It's the way of things, with children. Can we really know them? Do we even really know ourselves?

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	15. Vicarious - Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Fifteen

Grace is barricaded in her room. From my office, I hear Luis talking to her through the door.

"Can I come in?" Plaintive. He's in love.

"Go away."

"But..."

"You're horny. I know. D-I-Y."

"We can just... talk..."

"I'm bleeding."

"Umm. Ya. I'm... sorry?" Such a sweet boy, apologizing for her distress. I can't stop a chuckle at his helplessness.

"From my _vagina._ "

"I... love you?"

A nice try. A pause before she responds. "Love you too. Bleeding now. Go away."

His sneakers thump dejectedly down the stairs. Pat's voice from the kitchen.

"Don't take it personally, Luis. She feels like she's in a different body all of sudden. It's not that she doesn't want to see you. She doesn't want you to see her because she feels hideous. Be patient and supportive. She's worth it."

"Thanks, Missus Stewart. I feel... bad for her."

"Pat, please. Grace adores you. We all do. You're like a part of the family now."

"T-thanks. I... like you too... Pat."

The voices stop, but I don't hear the door. A faint jangle reaches my ears.

The lad stammers. "Y-you... don't have to..."

"Shhh, lovely boy. I'm going to suck your lovely prick."

I find myself in the hall outside the kitchen, though I don't remember going there. Luis is standing. Pat sits at the table, chair turned to face him. His pants around his thighs, hands at her ears as she leans in. She holds him deep, her nose in the nascent forest of his pubis, muscles in her cheeks belie the working of her tongue. His eyes are closed until they find me. He blinks, a brief startle, a flash of panic. My smile is gentle, ironic. He doesn't understand, but Pat has his buttocks firmly in her grasp. Escape is both impossible and unthinkable. He hides from my gaze behind his eyelids and gives himself over to the irrepressible, irreverent mouth. He shudders... spasms at the root. My wife's throat works. I withdraw before he finds me again.

When I hear the door I'm at my computer as though nothing has happened. A hand on my shoulder. I look up to the glowing visage of my spouse. She bends to kiss me. Her tongue pokes at my lips and I open to receive her. And him, on her lips, on her tongue. She leaves me to my work. I stare at the screen forever before I move again.

**************************

Grace, shouting. It's unlike her. The insanity. I was warned. "Mom. He's _my_ boyfriend."

"You were rude to him."

"I'm supposed to do... whatever... whenever?"

"No. But you can certainly be nice. And talk."

"He didn't really want to talk."

"He didn't only want to talk, I'm sure. But talking is important. It's even more important than fucking."

Grace's tone fades from anger to sorrow. "What if... he likes you better?"

"He came here to see you. I was just being... compassionate. Like I would for a friend in need."

"I want him to need me."

"We all need each other, Grace."

Now, exasperation. "We don't all need to fuck each other. This is... uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." The inevitable slam of her door follows.

**************************

"Why did she do that, Daddy?"

"Not to steal your boyfriend or hurt your feelings, kitten. You know how your mother thinks about these things."

"It's different now. She should know that."

"She means what she says, about meeting needs. What families are for. She saw Luis in need. It doesn't mean anything more than that."

"Maybe it does to him. He let her do it. What if he lets other girls do it? What if they... do it better?"

"Luis has real feelings for you, sweetheart. Did he tell you what happened?"

"Ya. I was so pissed."

"He didn't try to hide it. That says a lot. What did he say?"

"She just did it. He went along cuz she did it before and I knew and he didn't think it was a thing."

"But it's different now."

"Ya."

"He knows about Gale."

"Well. Ya."

"So."

"So? That's different."

"And Brad?"

"He doesn't know about Brad."

"Is that different too?"

"That's... just sex. Now it is."

I try on my best patient, fatherly look. "You want him to accept all the ways your needs are met."

"I'm supposed to let him do whatever?"

"You're supposed to talk to him and figure it out."

She gnaws her lip. "You don't feel bad? When Mom... does stuff?"

"We figured it out. We understand each other. You and Luis can understand each other differently. It's up to you. Different strokes."

Grace is perplexed. "The TV show? What does that have to do with it?"

"Errr. No. It's a saying. 'Different strokes for different folks.' Everybody has their own ways." I feel old.

"Of stroking? It's a sex thing?"

I have to laugh. "No, kitten. Strokes are like... comforts. What you need."

"I need Mom to not stroke my boyfriend."

"Talk to her. And to him. They'll listen. Figure it out."

**************************

Pat is curled in the arc of my body, in bed.

"I fucked up," she says.

"It's a teachable moment, I guess. Your intentions were good."

"Very noble of me. I did want to give the poor boy some relief. But I also wanted his beautiful young cock in my mouth."

"I know. She'll forgive you."

"When she's twenty."

"Perhaps sooner."

My wife sighs. "I want things to be simple."

I snort. "You're a force of nature. Chaos is inevitable."

"Do you hate it? The chaos?"

I have to think. "It scares me sometimes. But I find it... irresistible. In those moments... I know I'm alive."

"Mmmm. Yes. Alive." Her hand finds the hardness trapped between us. "I feel how alive you are."

"You do that to me."

She guides me to her slick warmth and I enter in an easy stroke, rest there for a long moment, cozy comfortable. Pat is of a different mind. She pushes away, turns to her tummy, tucks her knees under, presents herself.

"Fuck my ass, Scott. Make me sorry for what I did. I want to feel it."

I feel it in her voice, in my groin. I kneel, slap my erection against each elevated cheek. "Were you a bad girl?"

"Yes. Bad."

I press against her sphincter, work my leaking head until the taut ring yields, snaps back around me just behind the ridge. I grab her hips and stab, a sharp spank from my thighs.

My thrusts displace pent up sounds from her body. "Unnnnnhhhhhh. Bad. Good." She claws at her cunt with angry fingers. Molten heat burns... contractions crush... her expiation brings mine.

**************************

Pat's out of town again. Dinner with Grace. Swim meet tomorrow, an overnight trip. She'll go with Gale. No nanny cam.

Grace's new phone pings. I said we'd wait until she was twelve. Good luck with that, said my wife. It escalated into a screaming war. Capitulation brought quiet, which is after all what parents want most.

She looks. A wry grin. She holds it up for me to see. From Brad: _Are you coming back?_

"What should I tell him?"

"That's entirely up to you, sweetpea." I try to shrug as if I don't care.

She chews a bite, swallows. "I like when it's about me."

"It should be about you. Tell him that."

She pokes at the keypad with a giggle.

**************************

My phone rings. Brad.

"We had an agreement, you and I," he says.

"We did?"

"Yes. You let me molest your daughter, and I let you watch." Fucking jocular.

"You're ignoring something important."

"What's that?"

"Grace. It's up to her."

"She loves it. She wants it. You do too. Bring her."

"Listen to what she's saying. It's not about you, or me."

**************************

Back from the swim meet. Second place in the fifty. Fourth in the hundred. Her team won the relay. She's only more determined.

Grace shows me her phone. From Brad: _It's about you. Please come back._

Tomorrow is Tuesday. I ask the obvious question with my eyes. My daughter nods.

**************************

Brad is reserved, careful, sussing us out. Grace is matter-of-fact, her face keen. Her auburn hair is short now, Megan Rapinoe short. Easier to take care of, she says. Doesn't care what other's think. And no, she's not a lesbian. This is obvious to the people who matter.

"I was ahead before the turn," she says. _Be my trainer, not my lover._

"Right," he says. "Let's work on your core. Not on the table this time. Gravity board."

Grace keeps her shorts on. Brad straps her ankles to the board... tight together. Tips it back about thirty degrees.

"Crunches. Hands behind your head. Let's see what you can do."

The first ten come easily. She strains through the next ten, wants to stop.

"Five more."

She tries. Gets three. "Two more."

Panting. "Can't."

"Won't."

"Gggrrrrrrrrrrrrr." One more. A grunt, and the last. She hangs limp, arms adangle.

"Good girl. You'll be sore. It'll help." He returns the board to level, unbuckles her ankles. "What else today?"

Grace swallows, then stands. Straightens herself. "The other stuff. Too."

Brad's indulgence goes only so far. "Let's not be coy with each other, Grace. Do you want me to get you off?"

"Ya." The word comes from beneath her top as she peels it off.

"Seems... transactional."

"You like it. Doing it."

"I do. Very much."

"Is that enough for you? Cuz the last time... I didn't like it."

"You don't like sucking cock. Your boyfriend will be disappointed."

"That's not it. I didn't like how you were about it."

"I was anxious. You... affect me that way."

"You made me feel bad about my Dad to get me to do it."

His face darkens. "Is that what your Dad told you?" A hint of derision.

"No. I figured it out for myself."

"I see."

Grace shucks her shorts and hops up onto the table, naked. Brad follows her movements with intent. She finds my eyes. I can tell that she's scared. Still, I see determination.

"Then after... you're gonna blow my Dad." The slightest quiver in her voice.

We hadn't discussed this. I'm awash with shock until pride flushes it away.

Brad appears astonished as well. An awkward burst of laughter. "He told you to say that." A statement, demeaning.

I shake my head. My surprise is convincing.

"No." My daughter, unequivocal. "You're not nice to him. Maybe he doesn't mind it. But I do."

Brad blinks. "That's... not going to happen."

Grace slides down from the table and picks up her clothes. Pulls on the top first.

"What the fuck?" says Brad.

"We're going," says Grace.

We go.

**************************

In the car, Grace shakes uncontrollably. I pull over and gather her up, say what's in my heart. "That's the bravest thing I ever saw."

"So... fucking... scary... I can't believe I did that... I thought about it... all night..."

"I'm so proud of you. You didn't have to, you know. I..."

Words roil out of her, a flash flood washing down a desert culvert. "I know, Daddy. But it's not right. You and Mom... she loves you and the stuff she does... you want it and it's okay because she loves you and she's always thinking that way but he wants it but he doesn't care about you or even me really so even if we want it... it's not okay. Is it?"

Courage, and wisdom. We learn from our children, if we listen to them.

"No, sweetheart. It's not. It's not okay."

I hold her until her tremors calm, and we go home.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	16. Vicarious - Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Sixteen

Grace is defining her boundaries. It's healthy, says my wife. The candor of our breakfast conversations is still unnerving.

My daughter, to her mother. "Luis said Daddy watched. When you... did it."

"Oh? Honestly, I didn't notice, sweetpea."

"Guess you were busy." Sardonic, from our child. Then to me. "Don't you get jealous, Daddy?"

I start to mumble. Pat translates. "I think... that's just not in your father. He takes pleasure in my pleasure, joy in my joy. It's the sweetest thing, really. He's a treasure, your Daddy. That's why I'll always come home to him, no matter what else."

Grace's eyes haven't left me. I nod to her mother. "What she said."

Grace studies me like a zoo animal as she chews her toast, her face scientifically inscrutable.

**************************

Another overnight trip. Grace and I meet Gale in the lobby of the hotel. My daughter follows her coach to their room. I go to mine, alone. It's just assumed.

We gather again for dinner. Grace is full of questions on strategy for her heats.

"You don't have to lead from the gun. The only time being ahead matters is at the end."

"I hate being behind. I like the calm water."

"You're thinking about the other swimmers. That's why you miss your turns. You're trying to rush them. They need to flow."

"That doesn't make sense."

"When you get it right, it'll make perfect sense."

Grace sighs, pokes at her food. Gale's eyes soften, coach to lover. Her care for my daughter is genuine.

"That's it. Want it. Feel the want. That's how you'll get there, if you never let go of the want."

My child chews her lip, cheeks aflush. Gale chuckles.

"I think I know what my girl wants right now," says the woman.

Grace squirms, regards me sheepishly. "Can't help it," she murmurs.

I sign the dinner check. I hug my daughter, kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, sweetpea. Big day tomorrow."

Gale's hand on her shoulder as they retreat. Grace turns. Looks back. Watches me for a long moment. Stands on tiptoe and says something. Beckons me. I approach.

"What is it, pumpkin?"

Grace looks to Gale. The woman has a wry smile. Bends toward me to speak quietly.

"Your daughter wants to let you watch us fuck."

"Errr." I can still be rendered speechless.

Grace is all too familiar with my impediment. "You look lonesome, Daddy. You want to... right?"

"Well. I..."

Gale shakes her head. "Scott. Please. We've known this since you first saw me touch her at the pool. Aren't we past the denial by now?"

"Grace. You don't have to, just for me."

"Meeting needs, Daddy. I get it. It's... sweet. That you want to. Weird. But sweet."

**************************

Two queen beds in the room. Girls sharing. Nothing to see here. I sit on one, blush furiously. Grace seems oddly anxious too. Not like I haven't seen her before. Still, it feels different for both of us. Perhaps what I've witnessed with Brad has been passive. Things done to her, not things done by her. Now she's truly revealing herself, not just her physical responses. Her feelings, her love... where she's most unformed and vulnerable.

Gale is bemused. She senses the hesitation and cuts through it. "Shall we pretend your Daddy's not here, little one?"

Grace manages to meet my eyes. "N-no. We don't have to pretend."

"Good. Nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. Take off your clothes, Grace. Then take mine off."

It's an entirely new thing, Grace disrobing for her lover. A slow dance, performed with intent. I take in her nakedness as though for the first time, the delicate line of her narrow hip, the crescent arc of her rump, the ropes of toned muscle manifest in her movements. Crimson over her neck and chest, arousal from the caress of four lingering eyes. My child's slender fingers awkward at the adult's buttons. Patience lasts only so long. Shirt open, shorts at her feet, Gale dispenses with these and her underclothes with urgent efficiency.

The coach could be an older Grace, her body honed with rigor, shaped svelte and smooth, never overstated. A hydrodynamic pairing, full and half portions. The older's eyes the blue of the pool, the younger's the green of the sea. They merge like fluid, flowing into each other, arms as curling threads, the woman lifting, the girl lifted. The bed accepts their entwined plunge. My ears strain to hear the splash.

They lose themselves in kisses. Hands cling and move. Grace shivers... reaches to push between the woman's thighs, anxious. Gale nudges the hand away. The woman is transformed, gentle with lithe strength, instead guides the girl's head to her chest with a coo. Grace relents, willing to be the child, latches and suckles. The woman whispers unheard mother's obscenities, finds the girl's own straining nipple, mauls it in her fingers. Too rough, I think. Grace arches, a deep rumble from her throat. Not too rough. Not even unfamiliar.

Large hands on small head as it moves lower. Gale shifts to her back. Grace kisses the flatness of her tummy, and lower, thighs around her pinkened cheeks. A small tongue displayed, a single long lap at the splayed gash before searching, lips folding within lips, enfolding the woman's swollen joy. Now a suckle below, quiet wet sounds of nursing.

Gale looks to me but her words are for Grace. "That's my baby girl. Such a good girl. Suck mommy's clit. My precious baby."

I hear Pat's voice in my head... _my daughter, not hers..._ But now I understand. Grace's mother wants her daughter to be an adult. Taught her adult things, so young... broke her maidenhood, found her a boyfriend, held her as she was penetrated. It's so like her own story, seducing her piano teacher, straining against the bounds of childhood. It's not all that Grace needs. She still needs to be a child when being a child is what she needs. When she's afraid, or anxious, or unsure. Gale understands. An adult in the pool, a child in bed. Meeting Grace's needs. I understand.

Grace shivers as the words wash over her. Her hand seeks herself, finds herself, fingers crushed between her clenching thighs.

Gale cums with Grace's mouth crushed into her sex. "Mmmm. Perfect, little one. So perfect." A mother's pride. My child soaks in it, chin shiny, offers thanks in a soft whimper, soft eyes looking up, pool and sea.

Now wrapped together, head to head, quiet kisses. Gale seems to relish the taste of herself, her territory marked.

Grace squirms. Gale chuckles. "Horny baby? Hmmm? Horny baby cunt? All gooey now?" As though to an infant.

"Can't help it," says Grace, words muffled in her lover's neck.

"I know, kitten. Daddy wants to see you cum. Don't you, Daddy?"

It's jarring, as though she's broken the fourth wall in a movie, talking directly to the audience. My answer comes from my brain stem, unencumbered by interference from the higher functions of thought. "Yes," I say. Despite my painful depravity, anger rises. I want to see this woman humiliated. Punished for knowing my daughter better than I. Better than her mother. "Grace," I say. "Sit on her face."

But Gale is incapable of shame. Perhaps undeserving of it. Not something I'd easily understand. "Oh my. There's a naughty boy. Taking charge. Do you think we should let him, sweetpea? Should Daddy get to see what he wants?"

Grace won't look at me. She answers with her body, wriggles and straddles, toes on the bed. Not unfamiliar. Gale draws her in, hands clasped to pry apart the girl's bottom, consumes the nascent pubis with wanton hunger. Adult fingers work into the cleft, tickle at the tender ring, circle and coax it through its defensive contractions, find their way inside. Grace's hands grip the head of the bed, buttocks concave as she grinds onto the flailing tongue.

Grace shudders... gasps a single word... "f-fuckkkkkk..." Breathes. Twitches. Gale holds her fast. Sensitive, she tries to squirm away. The woman has none of it and soon the resistance weakens... she grabs at the woman's ears... can't contain her voice... unrecognizable sounds, a baby animal in a trap.

I don't remember closing my eyes. When I open them my daughter and her coach are tangled, pool and sea hidden behind resting lids.

**************************

"I'll retire. G'night, sweetheart. And... Gale."

A sleepy blink from Grace. "You don't hafta go, Daddy. There's the other bed."

Gale chokes off a single guffaw. "Your father needs to relieve himself."

"Oh." Grace hides her face in Gale's neck.

The woman won't let it rest. "He's going to masturbate, thinking about us. About you."

"Can't hear youuuuuuuu..." My daughter, through an embarrassed giggle. She buries herself under the covers... slips out the side... her naked bottom scurries to the bathroom... the shower starts to run.

Alone with Gale, I try for exasperation. "You love this, don't you?"

"Teasing you? Of course I do. You know why, don't you?"

"I can't speak to how your mind works, Gale."

"I love it because you do. You're a lucky man. All the women in your life understand you. You should be thankful. Even to Brad."

"To Brad?"

"He understands you better than you do yourself."

"Ridiculous."

Gale shrugs. "You know I'm right. You love sucking his cock. You love it even more when your daughter watches you do it."

"He's a selfish asshole."

"Not totally. Sure, he can be an asshole. But he understands a quid pro quo. Grace got his attention."

"She's setting her boundaries."

"Yes. It's lovely to see. He'll respect them now, I think."

"He won't get the chance."

She chuckles. "We'll see. Don't underestimate the way he makes her feel. She'll miss it."

"She has her boyfriend. And... you."

"It's not at all the same, Scott. I've watched him with girls. He gets to places that others just don't reach. That's why I wanted her to meet him."

"To make her want a man that abuses her."

"To give her all the pleasure she deserves. Mostly girls are taught that they have to please others. It's not right. They should be given every conceivable ecstatic sensation, as much and as often as they want."

"Is that why you fucked her ass?"

"Ah. Now we're getting there. Yes, that's why I fucked your daughter's ass. You can't possibly be shocked. You've watched Brad bury his fingers there for weeks. Seen her squirm, pushing them deeper. She begged me, Scott. She begged me to fuck her in the ass."

Speechless again. Gale gets out of bed, naked, statuesque. "Go jerk off, Scott. I'm going to shave your daughter's cunny. She's going to ask me to lick it again after I do. She's quite predictable, just like you."

I watch the open bathroom door for longer than I should.

**************************

Grace is behind as she reaches the far wall of the pool. She submerges. I see her dark form twist... coil... launch... one seamless, powerful motion. When she surfaces after the turn, she's in the calm water. The rest is inevitable.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	17. Vicarious - Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Seventeen

Pat and Luis are out of town. Not together; she on business, he at a meet. Grace is tucked under my arm on the couch. The TV is on but we're not really watching. It's utterly comfortable, a throwback to her younger years. Moment to moment, eleven is seven, or seventeen. I meet her where she is.

The ring of Grace's phone is jarring. She squirms an arm free, lithe with subtle muscles.

"Hi bae." On first overhearing this in their conversation, I'd Googled 'bay.' Not helpful. Finally had to ask my daughter to translate. Embarrassing, but now I know about Urban Dictionary. Dad's Rosetta Stone.

She doesn't hide the screen from me. The boy's cinnamon skin glows in pale light.

"Hey. Sup." He's concise, if not charming.

"Nada." Bilingual, is my daughter? I listen and learn.

"Me too."

"Nervous about tomorrow?"

"Nah. Whatever." Boys his age aren't supposed to admit that they care about things. So my wife says.

Grace holds him to a higher standard. "Slacker."

"Faster than you."

"Ooooo I can beat a sixth grader. Sooo cool. Plus not for long."

I'm proud of my girl. She's at least his equal in this relationship. Luis changes the subject.

"Miss you."

"Miss you too."

"Ya?"

"Ya."

Seems enough for the moment. Grace casts a glance my way.

"Is my family weird?" she says to the phone.

"Fuck ya. Hella weird."

Teeth at her lip. "But is it... like... okay?"

"Ya. Just... different."

"I guess so."

"My parents never say anything. I guess they did it once cuz here's me but besides that I dunno if they ever."

"But it's okay."

"Ya." She waits. Wants more. He seems to understand. "I never knew a girl that... that's... like you."

"Horny. All the time." Her cheeks flush pink.

"Ya. How you love to fuck. So ya."

"Cool." Grace seems satisfied. "How much do you miss me?"

"A lot."

"Show me."

"Huh?"

"Show me how much you miss me."

"Fuck girl. You are..."

"Horny. Show me."

"Heh." Rustling. The image moves. When it settles, his erect penis shines in extreme close-up.

"Do it." Anxious now.

"Ya?"

"Ya."

"Show me then."

Grace blinks at me. I blink back. Her tiny smile pierces from the top, head to heart to cock. She wiggles out of her shorts... holds the phone at her thigh... spreads her legs. Shameless. Smooth. Perfect. I imagine the softness.

Luis grips himself. "Fuck ya. Sweet pussy."

"You wanna kiss it?"

"Ya. All the time. Tits too bae."

"Like I got any." Grace shucks her shirt in a one smooth motion, leans back, nipples straining for the ceiling. Her hand slides over her bare mons, fingers part petite folds, tickle at the apex.

"They're perf." He grunts as he yanks at his root.

My daughter is beside me, naked, absorbed in shared masturbation with her boyfriend. I'm forgotten for the moment and take the opportunity to adjust my painfully trapped organ. Leakage flows in a visibly spreading stain just left of my zipper.

Grace whimpers, hips lift. Luis spews obscenities as he spews. "Fuck. Me. Fucckkkkk. Uuuuhhhhhnnnnngggg."

**************************

Grace kisses my cheek. She's holding her clothes, not wearing them. "'Night, Daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart. Practice tomorrow?"

"Ya. Right after school."

"Okay. I'll pick you up."

"Thanks."

She hesitates. I offer a gentle prompt. "What is it, kitten?"

Gnaws at her lip. "Did it make you..."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. He didn't see me, did he? You're afraid we're going to scare him away. Hella weird, and all."

"No. I mean. It's okay. I... don't mind."

"Oh. That's... good."

"Are you gonna..."

Grace is asking me if I'm going to masturbate. I feel the familiar shame, but can't deny her the obvious truth.

"Yes."

She swallows. "I kinda wanted to. Make you that way."

"That's... so sweet, princess. I..." I'm at a loss for words.

Her eyes dart to the side. "Do you want me to... stay?"

"Oh." My turn to swallow, a poor substitute for thinking. I manage to summon a shred of rationality. "Do you want to stay?"

"Ya. If you want me to."

"You like watching him. Luis."

"Ya. I think about how you watch and how you must feel and I guess sometimes... I feel that way too. When I watch."

"It's not too weird?"

"Don't think so. I guess... I'll tell you after?"

Despite all we've shared, when I push my pants down in front of my daughter and reveal my straining hardon, I feel compelled to close my eyes. Just knowing that she's there is enough. In my self-imposed blindness, she fills my ears.

"After we did the condom thing. When I put it on you. I... heard you. And Mom. I heard what you said. And she said. When she... gave you a blowjob. She... you... pretended it was me."

"Unnnnnhhhhh. S-sorry... you weren't supposed to..."

"I went to my room and did it. Two times."

"HHHnnnnnnnn." Spots of white flash behind my shuttered lids as I'm utterly drained.

A brush of soft lips on my forehead. "I love you, Daddy." Small bare feet pad away. I don't open my eyes for a long time.

**************************

I sit with Gale on the bleachers. Grace swims laps, endlessly. Her stamina is impressive.

"How good is she?" I venture. Gale regards me curiously. "At swimming," I clarify.

"Better than me at her age. More committed. You've done something quite rare."

"I have?"

"You and Pat. You've raised a confident girl. That's what I lacked."

"Strange as it feels to say... I think you had something to do with that."

Mock incredulity. "Scott. Are we bonding?"

"We have a common interest."

"Heh." She watches the pool, azure water and eyes reflecting each other. "She told me I have to be nice to you."

"You'd only be nice because she told you?"

"Your family adores you. I understand it better now. I've never known a man like you, to be honest. It's taken some time to absorb."

"How do you mean?"

"You're a giver, not a taker. I've only known takers. I thought it meant you were weak. Now I see the strength in it."

"I don't feel particularly strong."

"That you can say that -- that's the point. You don't hide from yourself anymore. There's power there."

I consider this in silence until Gale's whistle blasts, way too close to my ear.

**************************

"Mooooommmmmmmmmmmm!" A frantic screech from Grace's room.

Pat rushes to the scene of the evident calamity. I tag along, curious.

Grace stands backward before her full-length mirror, sans clothing, straining to look over her shoulder at her reflection. A lovely three-dimensional picture. Her anguished face distracts from my viewing pleasure.

"Seeeeee?" A whimper. Pat approaches, inspects our daughter's shoulders. I squint. Red spots, faint, scattered over her pale skin.

"Right," says my wife. "Of course. The pool, the swimsuit. And... well... puberty. It was bound to happen, sweetpea."

"Not to meeeeee."

"You're not immune to life's troubles, Grace."

"Make it go away." An accusation, and a command. Somehow this must be her mother's fault.

"There's lots we can do." Pat sits on the bed, considers. "Gives me an idea, actually."

A sarcastic glare. "Oh good. An idea. I'm hideous. I can't even..."

"Calm down, Grace. You'll like this idea. Meanwhile, a good moisturizer with salicylic acid. You can have Gale put it on under your suit."

"Mom. I don't want her to seeeee it."

"So you're not going to let Gale see you naked anymore? She's a swimmer. She'll understand. She won't kick you out of bed, I'm pretty sure."

Grace's eyes drop. "Fuck."

**************************

Grace and Pat breeze into the house, an air of conspiracy.

Pat's using her mom-voice. "I'm not going to have to remind you, right? Every day. Without fail."

"I knooowwwww. There's an app that tells me to."

"Of course. An app."

"I can't wait to tell Luis."

"Not for a month. Condoms til we're sure."

"Grrrrrrrrrr. But I won't like... bleed to death anymore?"

"It should be a lot lighter. For some it stops all together."

Grace hugs her mother's neck. "Thank you thank you thank youuuuuuu..." Our daughter races to her room clutching a brown paper bag. She hasn't been this excited since we relented and got her a phone.

"Clever," I say to my wife. "Acne treatment with a side of birth control."

"I am, aren't I? The doctor never raised an eyebrow. 'Very common with swimmers,' she said."

My thoughts regarding my daughter's prescription for oral contraceptives are not entirely fatherly in the traditional sense.

**************************

Pat's home. I feel a confession coming on. "It seems that... Grace likes to watch."

"Heh. Takes after her Daddy."

"Oh good. My little girl is a voyeur. Parenting by example."

"Shush. Of course she does. I told her to watch Luis."

"You did?"

"It's how a girl learns to give a proper hand job. Until you see how a boy abuses himself, you'd never think that trying to rip it off is actually the way they like it. The other way around, too. Demonstrate what you want."

"So you wouldn't be upset if she... for example... hypothetically... wanted to watch... me?"

A patronizing sigh. "She called me, Scott. Right after. She wanted to know if it was okay."

"Errr. Right. Forgiveness rather than permission. What did you say?"

"I asked her why she did it. She said she thought it would make you happy. I asked how she felt about it. She said it was cool because you make funny faces. Which you do. We laughed."

"So it's okay."

"Just don't push it."

"Of course. Never."

She kisses me, gently at first, then with more urgency. "I know you mean that. Which makes you the sweetest man there ever was." Her hand snakes into my boxers. "Make funny faces for me," she breathes.

**************************

A rare family TV night. Pat and I on the couch, Grace on the floor. A short shirt that doesn't cover her underpants. Pat catches me looking. Smirks. Pecks my cheek. Stretches the waistband of my pajama bottoms and hooks it under my scrotum.

"Hmmm?" I ask, my chin pointing to our daughter.

She hums back matter-of-factly. "Mmmm-hmmm." Takes my semi-hardness into her hand.

"Nnnnn."

Grace glances sideways at the susurrus. Indulgent squint in the television's flicker. "Geez. You guys."

I point helplessly at her mother and shrug. Grace rolls her eyes. I feel Pat's warm lips embrace the head of my cock, commanding its full rigor.

Grace blinks under furrowed brow. "Should I... go?"

Pat grins with her mouth full. _Up to you,_ she means. I close my eyes. I don't hear the sound of bare feet receding. I dare to peek and Grace is still there, and her hand... it moves subtly, trapped beneath the taut fabric between her legs. I feel her gaze on my shining stiffness, wet from her mother's mouth. She looks past it to my face, her own is anxious... impish... as though on a dare she pushes the gusset to the side, exposes herself to me, middle finger impaled.

The sight demands a guttural grunt. My wife grips. I gush. She gulps. I gasp, "Good God."

Grace giggles, glows. Somehow, the alliterative acts aren't awkward.

After a long quiet time, all of our pants back where they belong, Grace rises, stretches her perfect, nascent lines. "G'night. Love you."

Parents in unison, if not harmony. "Love you too."

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


	18. Vicarious - Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people live life through the experiences of others.

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now._

### Vicarious - Chapter Eighteen

The times they are a'changin'. Not just for me and mine, but for the world it seems.

Grace turns twelve. She's a little bit longer now, lean lines less linear, hydrodynamic. Her party is mostly older girls, mostly swimmers. She's in her element with them, much more so than in school. In my office I feel the thump of a bass line. The girls are shouting lyrics in unison at the top of their lungs. I blink as the words resolve in my unattuned ears.

> _Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
>  Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy  
> Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy  
> Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy_

After, I can't stop myself from asking. "So Grace... that song?" Still seems odd to me to call rap a 'song.' I guess Dylan wasn't very long on melody either.

A patient, patronizing look. "It's the number-one song of 2020, Daddy."

"According to who?"

"Everybody. Like, NPR."

I'm incredulous. "National Public Radio. Said that's the number one song."

"Ya." She pokes at her phone. Presents it close to my nose. _Flies in the face of those who might suggest women's sexuality is a shortcoming,_ says the review.

"Wow." I squirm. She giggles. At the crystalline sound I take in the sight of her, somehow expecting her to be eight again.

"I sent it to Brad."

"You did?"

"Oh ya." As if this is an obvious thing that had to be done.

"You're... teasing him?"

"I guess." Her face turns pensive. "Is that bad?"

"What do you think, sweetpea?"

"I guess so."

I kiss her forehead. I hardly have to bend at all to reach it now.

**************************

"Are you ready for something hard, Grace?"

Pat and I raise our eyebrows simultaneously at this question from Gale.

Grace is focused on swimming. She doesn't mistake the word. "Like... it's not been hard so far?"

"Breast is easy. Your arms are long. You should fly."

We're swimming parents now. It's a thing. We know what she means. The butterfly stroke, the most challenging to master. Dolphin kicks, legs together, arms in unison beating the water like the wings of a... well... butterfly.

Grace is confused, almost angry. "That looks... hard."

"That's why you should do it. You could be brilliant."

"It's totally different. It'd be like starting over."

"Yes. That's why you should do it."

"But... I'm just now starting to win..."

"Yes. That's why..."

Grace cuts her off. Asserting herself, even with her Coach. "I get it. I'll think about it."

"Fins and kickboard. Tomorrow." Gale's face softens. "If you want it."

**************************

"Daddy. Buy me this."

Grace's phone at my nose again. I have to push it away a bit for my eyes to focus.

"A gravity board."

"Ya. Fly is all about the core. That's where all the power comes from."

"I see. So you've decided."

"I think so."

"Are you just doing what you think Gale wants, kitten?"

Instant response. "No." _As if_ is unspoken. I watch her. "I'm not." I watch more. "I want to do medley."

"Ah." The combination of all four strokes in one race. Few swimmers can excel at this. "That sounds hard."

"That's why I want to do it."

I sigh, but it's a happy, proud sigh. "Get your shoes on."

Grace squeals and scampers, beats me to the car.

**************************

"Are you sure about this?" My daughter is in the front seat of the car, staring at her phone. We're on our way to see Brad.

"What? Oh. Ya. I need to."

"For swimming."

"Ya. I need to know how to train for the fly."

"He can't just tell you? Aren't there YouTube videos?"

"There's a billion."

"So..."

"He's better. And he has the best equipment."

I wince. She rolls her eyes. "Perv."

"Sorry."

We're quiet for a time, until she blurts. "You liked it, before."

I consider my response carefully. "It was... uncomfortable."

"I thought you liked it."

"I'm not supposed to like it. Or maybe, I don't like the part of myself that likes it."

"Mom says people like what they like. It's okay if everybody gets what they want."

"Your mother is generally right about these things."

She ponders. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Daddy."

"What do you want, kitten? From Brad."

"To swim fast."

I nod. This is good. Boundaries.

"And I want him to fuck me." Astonishingly, this is said in the same calm tone as the bit about swimming.

It's difficult for me to focus on the road. "What about Luis?" Grasping for... something.

"I love him. This is different."

"You think he'll understand?"

"You watched Mom blow him. She loves you."

"He's not me, Grace."

Her mouth twists sideways. "If he's not like you... maybe he's not right for me."

"That sounds like your mother talking."

"You just said she's right about stuff."

 _Fuck._ She's too smart. "But you love him. So..."

She stares at her knees. "I know. I have to tell him."

"Won't he take it to mean that he can, too?"

"Probably. I thought about that. I guess... it's fair. I mean, he's hot as fuck. Girls are all over him."

"It's a lot easier to think about these things than to actually see them, Grace. And feel them."

"How did it feel? When you saw her."

The memory leaps back to me, vivid, visceral. I need to be honest with her, with myself. "A stab of pain. Instinct, I guess. My lizard brain, that wants to own her."

"Ya. Me too, when he told me. But Mom said that's not in you."

"It's in everybody. I guess the difference is what we do with it. I know better than to own her. It's not right for either of us. I saw her joy in it. I saw his. They deserve it. I was... glad."

"Just glad?" A diminutive smirk.

"It was also hot as fuck."

She snorts. "So it was okay."

"Yes. Because I know your mother will always come home to me."

She casts her eyes out the window, to the world. "I hope I know that sometime. About somebody."

"I think you will, Grace. Don't you dare settle for less."

**************************

Brad drinks in the sight of my daughter. Seeing her everyday, I don't register how she's changed in these past few months. He manages to be formal, professional, shakes my hand. It feels genuine. He works her hard, focused on building the power at her core and the flexibility of her shoulders, both essential to give her wings. She's limp and sweaty after forty-five minutes.

She sits, catching her breath. He leans against his table. "Medley. You up for it?"

"Ya."

"Do you want..."

"Ya. Please. Twice a week. Like before."

He nods a little, looks to me. "But not entirely like before." We can't dance around this.

Grace's eyes dart between us. Silently I try to tell her that I love her more than anything in the world... that I'd die for her... that her happiness is all that matters to me, then and forever. And... make good choices, I try to say.

"Will you stop, if I say so?" says my daughter.

Brad is puzzled. "Sorry?"

"If I say stop, will you stop? Like, whatever you're doing?"

He's beginning to catch on. "I... well... if you mean..."

"Fucking. I mean if we're fucking, and I say stop, you'll stop."

I see the conflict in his face. He's used to being in control. His words sound carefully chosen. "I've never wanted to do anything that you didn't want to do, Grace."

"But you did what you wanted. Or what you wished I wanted."

"You asked, for what we did."

"Kinda. You know what I mean."

Brad takes a deep breath. Grace waits him out. He knows that she'll walk. So strong, my little girl. I'm rooting for her, in my own profoundly perverse way. I state the obvious. "You know that there's exactly one right answer to that question, Brad."

"Heh." He shakes his head, befuddled. "Heh."

Grace stands up. Brad blinks. "Okay," he says. "Of course. Of course... I will. If you say." He wants to pretend that this was always true. We know better. He actually blushes at the lame posturing. A new thing for him.

Their eyes meet. "Did you miss me?" says my daughter.

Brad's face softens, as though a mask is melting away. "God. I did. So much."

"I thought about it. How I wanted it to be."

"How did you want it to be, Grace?" He seems to actually want to know.

"You... kiss me like you mean it. And you..."

Brad sweeps the girl into his arms as though she's weightless, deposits her bottom on the table, presses his body between her knees and consumes her lips with his... a smooth motion that I see only in a blur. Pent up heat glows through the sheen of her sweat. She lifts her arms and he takes the signal, her tank top off over her head, the sports bra following in a breath. She works her sneakers off with her toes and he knows what this means as well... her shorts and underpants off, a puddle on the floor. He cups her breasts, pushes her back, kisses down her tummy... buries his tongue in her nakedness, audible hunger. She grips his hair, pulls it hard, spurring not deterring.

"I want it," she breathes.

"What do you want?"

"Your cock."

"Where. Where do you want it?"

"P-pussy."

"Fuck. Say that again."

"Pussy. Fuck me."

"I will. God. I will."

"S-stirrups..."

"Really?"

"Ya. Do it."

Brad fumbles in his eagerness. Drags Grace by the ankles to the edge, straps her in, spread. His pants at his ankles, stands rampant, eyes devouring. Lays his hardness atop her cleft, hands caress, calf to thighs to hips and over her chest, mauling. He rocks, rubbing, shiny wetness, his and hers as their need leaks, mingles.

My cock is in my hand. No shame now. Just want, and need. Glad, indeed.

He's intent on her face as he guides himself. Smears, separates the smooth folds. It's impossible, I think. Brad leans. Grace whimpers.

"Fuckkkkk," says my baby girl.

"Yessss..." says her lover. His tip enfolded, he pulls back and leans again. Grace shivers, clutches at the paper on the table, the sound of tearing. He leans again. Grace twitches... whines...

"S-stop..." she says.

"Oh fuck. Please no."

"Stop. Hurts."

"You want it."

"Ya. Hurts. Stop."

Brad leans back, eyes wild. Grips himself, attacks her pubis at its apex, saws at it fiercely. Grace's hips twist, lift... she grunts, toes curling. Brad returns to her entrance... starts to lean... and stops. Grabs the edge of the table, head back... spasms at his root and floods her, erupts around his nested corona... her pale softness dressed in white.

Brad seems dazed. "I... fuck... sorry... are you... okay?"

"Y-ya. You... stopped."

"I... did." He sounds surprised.

"I'm s-sorry." Her voice trembles.

"Grace. No. Not ever. You're... perfect. It was... amazing."

"Not perfect. But... thanks."

I can't seem to break my gaze away from Grace. Where he was. Where his essence lays. The painful stiffness of my cock impinges. Brad sees me. Sees through me. I blush. There's always another level, it seems. Peeling the onion of shame, layers and layers.

Brad smiles, a tenderness I've never seen before. "Close your eyes, Grace. Just relax. Keep them closed."

She's too wrung out to argue. Her head lolls. Brad steps aside. Points at Grace with his chin.

I shake my head. He rolls his eyes. _I get that a lot,_ I want to say. Instead, I swallow.

In the silence, much is said. The core of me is breached, and then I'm there, at the table. The scrape of a stool moving behind me. Brad provides a place to sit. The presumptuous bastard. But I sit, and I breathe, and I lean and I smell and I close my eyes and I lean and I touch with my nose and I open my mouth and I touch with my tongue and I... lose myself in her sweat and her musk and his seed and their lust. It's the softness I've imagined, the scents I've sampled from afar, the taste I've known only in delirium. I roam the fullness of her sex, and below, she shivers as I probe, tremors as I tickle.

"Eyes closed. Just enjoy," a voice says.

At the end my little girl's cunny grips my tongue with short sharp hugs, and she's shiny clean. Her face as she cums burns into my brain where I know I'll cling to it forever. Unwilling, I disengage, kiss the insides of her thighs. Look up at Brad, who touches my face. Is this a kindness? I can't know. Don't care, right now. I retreat to my chair. Brad hands me a towel. Presumptuous bastard. He moves, kisses Grace's mouth.

"There we are. Better now?" he says.

Eyes open slits, Grace nods. He squeezes her hand.

She comes home with me. I hope she always will.

_I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at[joshua.woode@hushmail.com](mailto:joshua.woode@hushmail.com?subject=Vicarious)_


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